Dark Evangel
by Toratchi888
Summary: This is the story of Evangeline. Cursed again by a demon some ten years after her escape from Mahora, she turns to the one who rescued her. He promises her vengeance, and a chance to change the course of a galaxy... as Inquisitor Eva, the Dark Evangel.
1. Which is Darkest?

**Author's Note:** Welcome to my second fic, "Dark Evangel". This story follows after the events of my first fic, "Long Shadows Over Mahora". If you read LSOM, you probably know what happened in the Epilogue. I will not repeat it here; rather, I will start right in to our first chapter.

Also, I will not post a summary of LSOM here; you may begin reading "Dark Evangel" without knowing what happened in LSOM, though I will likely reference LSOM from time to time. LSOM ties in to D.E. _late_ in the latter story, so if you want to read LSOM, read it first or last, but not in the middle of D.E.

Eventually, I will also publish an interlude story between the events of LSOM and D.E., which follows the Negi-gumi after LSOM. It does not tie in with Dark Evangel except incidentally (happening, as it does, in the same timeline).

It may be confusing, trying to keep the chronology straight. If anyone has trouble keeping things straight, please review or PM and let me know where things go off the rails. Conversely, if something is _well-explained_, let me know, too.

(Incidentally, please review the story even if you DON'T have issues with the chronology; I like getting reviews. Makes me happy; makes me write faster.)

**N.B.** Liberal use of cussing in the latter half of the story; please take note.

**EDIT:** Reviewed the chapter, hoping it would make me want to write. It has. Checked a few things (spelling & grammar); hoping July 2012 means Ch.3 gets out.

* * *

_This is Evangeline's story. This is her rise to power, and her fall into weakness. _

_This is her future. This is her fate. This is the fate of a galaxy._

**In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only WAR.**

* * *

**Dark Evangel**

* * *

Chapter One—Which is Darkest?

* * *

_0(315)013.M3 – Earth, Japan, Miyagi, Matsushima_

Evangeline sat high in the boughs of an ancient, stately pine tree, staring out at the ocean. Her blonde hair swept lightly around her face, fluttering in the sea-breeze as she took in the Beautiful View of Matsushima Bay at noon. Below her, a peaceful arbour served as her retreat; she could smell matcha being prepared below.

Evangeline leaned back against the tree-trunk and closed her eyes. She sighed. Had she earned this peace?

"_Master_," came a quiet but strong voice from below, "_your tea is ready_."

Eva's eyes opened slowly. She slipped from her perch and floated slowly down, twirling lightly as she fell, her long, black-lace dress spiralling out around her. She touched down lightly on a thin carpet of pine needles, slipped off her dainty blue slippers, and stepped onto the tatami, whereupon Chachamaru, Eva's robot maid, provided her master with a bowl of matcha.

"Thank you, Chachamaru," replied Eva smoothly. Master and servant bowed to each other, and Eva lifted the bowl to her lips. As she turned it to drink, the sunlight glinted off a small silver ring, inset with a delicate oval amethyst, on her left pinky.

Dropping her hands, Eva cradled the bowl as she peered out through a break in the trees. The Pacific shimmered in the distance. Eva's gaze grew distant.

"Master, do you sense a threat?" Chachamaru inquired.

_Ever the protector_, thought Eva, coming back to her senses. "No, Chachamaru. I was… distracted. Forgive my rudeness." Eva bowed slightly, replacing the bowl on the mat.

"No apology necessary, master." Chachamaru took the bowl and placed it to one side. "Master…" began Chachamaru, then stopped. A look of what might have been… hesitation?

"What, Chachamaru?"

"Master, I wish to know of your plans," Chachamaru stated bluntly.

Eva blinked at Chachamaru's forthrightness, unusual even by her standards. "My plans…" Eva repeated slowly.

"Yes, master," Chachamaru affirmed. "We arrived here approximately six weeks ago. In that time, you have not drunk blood, and though we have used the caves near Zuigan-ji and been kindly taken care of by the Zen monks, I do not find it an appropriate place for you, master, to remain indefinitely. Therefore, I wish to know if you have plans to move on from this location, perhaps to someplace more favourable."

Evangeline stared in amazement at Chachamaru. For a construct of metal and magic, she was being remarkably… considerate. "Chachamaru," Eva jibed, "you sound concerned."

"Forgive me, master," Chachamaru replied, a _faint_ level of reproach entering her synthetic voice, "but it is my duty to see that you are well. You have been… distant. Distracted, as you were a moment ago. Why? Is it—?"

Eva snapped up a peremptory hand; Chachamaru fell silent immediately. "Is it… Kinoshita? Is that what you mean?" Eva murmured, voice tinged with anger.

Chachamaru merely bowed low, holding her position.

"Get up," Eva spat. Chachamaru straightened as bidden. "It is not _just_ Kinoshita. I… Ugh!" Eva jumped to her feet and stomped off the tatami, rising a few inches from the ground so as to avoid damaging the delicate straw mat, not to mention soiling her hose in the dirt. Her slippers flew to her feet. Eva stopped a few feet away, back to her robotic companion.

"Forgive me, master." Chachamaru bowed again. "I did not wish to cause you anger."

"No, of course not, Chachamaru; you never do," muttered Evangeline. She raised her hand, staring at the ring. "Though… this time, it is not your fault…"

* * *

_0(366)012.M3 – Earth, Japan, Mahora Academy_

_The Dark Evangel was free once again._

_Evangeline A.K. McDowell, the vampire-sorceress and mage of many names, was released from her imprisonment._

_Defeated at the hands of Nagi Springfield, the Thousand Master, Evangeline had been locked within the bounds of Mahora Academy in Saitama, Japan, forced to suffer through "school-hell". For fifteen years after her defeat, she replayed the life of a high school girl over and over._

_Then, the Thousand Master's son Negi appeared. Recently graduated from magic school in the U.K. at the tender age of ten, Negi was commissioned to teach English at Mahora. He was joined to Class 2-A as their homeroom teacher, and was soon befriended by almost the whole class. Negi made various Pactios—magical contracts—with his students, gaining their support and strength in his quest to locate his father, who had gone missing six years before._

_Evangeline, in the hopes of freeing herself from her curse, sought to drink Negi's blood in order to receive his familial magic. Negi defeated Evangeline in a duel, and she grudgingly accepted him. Later, Evangeline began to teach Negi (and some of his students) advanced magic._

_However…_

_This state of affairs was not to last. Ten years after Negi's arrival at Mahora, events unfolded in such a way that Negi was unable to avoid betraying a promise he made to Evangeline. Both Negi and Evangeline considered the promise to be of paramount importance and, though circumstances were beyond Negi's control, he failed to uphold the promise._

_Yet Evangeline discovered a positive aspect of Negi's betrayal: By it, he had unwittingly freed her from Mahora, her prison for a quarter-century. She left Mahora on New Year's Eve 2012 and was never again seen by the Negi-gumi._

* * *

_0(xxx)013.M3 – Earth, Japan, Kantō / Chūbu / Kansai_

Evangeline, followed as ever by her faithful Chachamaru, terrorized Japan by night.

She moved about southern Kantō, targeting different prefectures and cities. Starting from Saitama—where she glutted herself on the blood of three different women during New Year's—she glided south across Tokyo and Kanagawa before heading west into Chūbu and Kansai.

In Tokyo, she grabbed one unlucky girl—blood sweetened by New Year's wine—at Dezomeshiki, the New Year's Parade put on by Tokyo's firefighters. She moved through

Kanagawa and Yamanashi during January, followed by Setsubun in Shizuoka, Aichi, and Gifu. She moved slowly, only attacking one girl each week after Jan. 6 so as to avoid becoming drunk on blood.

By the beginning of March, she had arrived in Kyoto City, which was in a state of high emotion. Word of her attacks had spread during February, and the Kyoto Shinmeiryū were looking for her, hoping to stop her before Hina Matsuri, the Doll Festival for young girls the first week in March. Chachamaru counselled caution, begging her master to lie low for awhile.

However, the lure of blood overcame Evangeline's sense of caution. She attacked three young women that night, but after the third Kyoto Shinmeiryū attacked and drove her off. She fought them fang and talon, but the whole of the Kansai Magic Association fell on her like a ton of bricks. Never had Evangeline witnessed such ferocity from the Shinmeiryū or their magical allies. Chachamaru fled the battle on Evangeline's instructions, the latter ordering her servant to find a suitable retreat (though it galled Eva to admit it).

Battered soundly despite the virgin blood coursing through her, and with the threat of the Negi-gumi looming—whom, it was rumoured, had been dispatched by the Dean of Mahora to represent the Kantō region in the matter—Evangeline fled Kyoto, the Shinmeiryū hot on her trail.

She fled to Nara and hid herself for a week, quietly taking one victim during the Festival at Kasuga Grand Shrine. Thereafter she was unable to make regular attacks, as the Kansai region was on high alert for her and Chachamaru. Evangeline slept for two weeks to recover her strength, spending most of the blood-power she had acquired since New Year's.

By the start of April, Evangeline was sufficiently recovered that she and Chachamaru could set out. They concealed themselves and made their way steadily northward through Fukui, Ishikawa, Toyama, and Niigata, stopping frequently in out-of-the-way places. Evangeline drank sparingly of virgin blood, usually once each month when the moon was full over the prefecture, to keep herself empowered.

The skulking wore at Evangeline's patience, since the threat of the Shinmeiryū and the Negi-gumi coming after her seemed to dog her steps. She wished to go out boldly and take the blood she desired, but Chachamaru counselled patience. After all, Chachamaru reasoned, Evangeline was immortal and Chachamaru would be unlikely to break down through normal operation. However, picking a fight with the magic associations of two or three regions was stupid, even for a vampire mage and her robotic servant.

Over the course of four months in hiding, Evangeline came to grudgingly admit that perhaps throwing herself head-on into the world after her imprisonment in Mahora had been rash. The Shinmeiryū was constantly on the lookout for her—though their activity had dropped to normal levels again—and the threat of the Negi-gumi in the Kantō region was enough to give her pause.

Tanabata saw her spirits lifted somewhat, as the popular matsuri saw the young people enjoy the summer. Evangeline and Chachamaru decided to take pause and join the festivities. Clad in yukata, they made merry in Niigata during the festival, and Evangeline actually forgot her cares for awhile, deciding to leave the revellers be.

They remained in Niigata throughout July, then moved on to Nikko in Tochigi. Eva felt quite daring, moving so close to Mahora again, but she was in fine spirits again and nothing could stop her.

The second week in August saw Evangeline and Chachamaru visit the great shrine Tosho-gu, just in time for the celebration of Obon. Evangeline got quite a chuckle out of their timing: celebrating the Day of the Dead at the shrine of Japan's greatest hero and warlord. Evangeline pledged before the monument of Tokugawa Ieyasu that she would be greater than he. Here she spent a few days in contemplation of her next move. She decided that she and Chachamaru would continue up through the north of Japan, maybe moving slowly towards Hokkaidō and, with luck, they could cross to the mainland before September was out.

* * *

_0(273)013.M3 – Earth, Japan, Fukushima, Sukagawa-shi_

_September in Sukagawa. Evangeline is shocked. What has become of her…?_

* * *

_Evangeline and Chachamaru arrive in Fukushima's central city of Sukagawa in mid-September. By this time Evangeline has begun craving blood again; her last attack had been in June, and her lack of drink was a combination of circumstance and self-restraint._

_However, she was at the point that she could no longer ignore her desire. She desperately needed to find a victim…_

* * *

On a quiet residential street, a young woman emerged from a well-lit house, calling goodbye to the people inside partying. Light spilled onto her chocolate hair, shimmering as she moved. The girl chatted happily on her cell phone, giggling as the boy on the other end scolded her for being out so late, making her pink bear ornament strap jingle.

"Well, Takizawa-kun, if you're so worried about me, why don't you take me in tonight, ne?" she suggested playfully. "I mean, isn't that what boyfriends are for?"

"Oh, they're for more than that," Takizawa retorted, chuckling.

"I'm _sure_," the girl replied innocently.

"Well, if you can drag yourself away from Matsumoto-san's _paaarty_," drawled Takizawa, "why don't you stop by?"

The girl smiled. "I'll be right over."

"Okay. Take care, Kinoshita."

"Thanks." Kinoshita clicked off her phone and stuffed it into her pocket. She slung her purse and made off down the street.

"Eri!" called a girl from the door. "Are you going to be okay?"

Kinoshita stopped and half-turned back. "I'll be fine, Ami-sempai," she replied.

"Do you want Honda-kun to walk you home?" asked Ami. "It's really dark—"

"Thank you, Ami-sempai," replied Kinoshita. "I'm on my way to Takizawa-kun's place, so—"

"_A, sō!_" Ami smirked. "Well, grab his butt for me, eh?"

"_Eeh!_" Kinoshita squealed. "That's mean, Sempai!"

Ami just laughed and closed the door. "_Ja, nee!_"

Kinoshita shook her head with a stupid grin on her face. Not that she didn't _want_to grab Takizawa's butt, but the thought was still a little scandalous.

Trying to shake the _ecchi_ image from her brain, Kinoshita made her way up the street, brushing down her skirt as she walked. She was glad she hadn't been drinking at the party like some of the others; though she was glad to celebrate the return to classes, she was still underage. At any rate, it was difficult enough to navigate the darkened streets sober, let alone after beers or cocktails.

Kinoshita reached the familiar park and decided that rather than go around she could cut through and save about ten minutes. Granted, it was darker in the park, but if she hurried… She tightened her hand on her purse and sped up to a brisk walk.

"Lucky me."

"Wha—AAAAAAAH!" Kinoshita screeched. A shadow launched itself from behind a tree and pinned her down; she dropped her purse, which tumbled a foot away. The leap propelled them out of the lamplight, dropping them both into shadow.

"I was hoping some idiot like you might wander through here," came a woman's voice. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this…"

"Wh-wh-wh-what?" Kinoshita panted.

"Shut up," growled the voice.

"YAH!" Kinoshita put all her strength into a lunge and, somehow, broke free. She stumbled away on her knees and made it as far as a bench before collapsing. Bent over the seat, she half turned to see the shadow stalking towards her.

"N-no…" Kinoshita pleaded.

"Girl, you try my patience—" the voice snapped, before stopping.

Kinoshita blinked, confused. Why did she stop? "Um…"

The figure remained silent, before stepping into the light. Kinoshita's mouth opened slightly. The person before her was a tall, mature-looking woman wearing a corset that greatly emphasized her huge bust, and a translucent skirt left little to the imagination as to what was beneath it. Her incredibly long blonde hair cascaded straight down her back. Red nails glinted in the faint light.

"Hmm… Well, aren't you cute?" the figure spoke, grinning. "I admit, now that I get a good look at you, I'd be almost ashamed to have to suck you dry…"

Kinoshita blushed furiously. "Wh-what?" she snapped. "You don't mean…"

"Oh, dear, you've misunderstood." The blonde woman appeared suddenly at the girl's side, their faces scant inches apart. "You must think I'm some kind of stalker. Well, you'd be right… in a sense." The blonde smiled, baring her fangs. "I'm a vampire."

Kinoshita blinked again. "A vam… pire?" The blonde woman smiled even wider. "COOL!" Kinoshita squealed.

"WHAT?" the blonde woman shouted, bolting upright.

"Your costume is so _cool!_" Kinoshita scrambled up, trying to get a better look at the "vampire". "How did you make it?"

"…Ugh." The blonde woman slapped a hand to her face. "What would Chachamaru think right now…?"

* * *

"Wow… So, um, Evangeline-san…" Kinoshita fidgeted. She didn't know what to ask.

After Evangeline eventually convinced Kinoshita that the former was not about to sexually assault the latter and that her "costume" was in fact _not_ a costume, the two of them had sat down on one of the park benches to talk.

"YES, girl, I AM a vampire," Evangeline spat in annoyance. In fact, she was more annoyed at herself than at the girl, who just happened to be a happy-go-lucky cutie and a bit of a chatterbox. Truth be told, Evangeline found herself inexplicably liking the girl as she prattled on about her friends and school: she was young, good looking, had a boyfriend (from the scent of it), and was neither too bookish nor too stupid.

_Why do I care?_ Evangeline wondered. _If it was any other day, I would've just thrown her down, sucked her dry, and been done with it._

"I-I wasn't going to… um…" Kinoshita looked down again, lost for words.

Evangeline found her frown lessen slightly. "What is it?"

"Well…" Kinoshita twisted her hands in her lap. "If… If you're really a vampire… You must be… well… really old, right?"

Evangeline raised a hand to her forehead and tousled her hair slightly. "Yes," she sighed. The truth unfolded before here eyes: she felt old around Kinoshita. Of course, she had been with the Negi-gumi for over a decade and watched both Negi and his ministrae grow and mature, but now she was seeing something different: a stranger who showed Eva what might have been, a normal girl in most every sense. That normalcy was what Eva saw, and it made her sad.

"Um… What's it like… as a vampire?" Kinoshita looked sidelong at Evangeline, worried that her question might upset her companion.

"What's it like…" Eva repeated. She stood. "It is hell."

Kinoshita looked up at Eva, shocked. A small tear had formed at the corner of Eva's eye. Eva paced away. "W-Wait! Evangeline-san!" Kinoshita scrambled up.

"What?" snapped Eva, rounding on Kinoshita. "Do you pity me now? Do you wonder what it is like to live for centuries, with no friends or family? Is that what you want to know?"

Kinoshita looked down. "I… I wondered… if you knew… love…"

Eva's mouth dropped open in surprise, then snapped shut just as quickly. She was completely flummoxed. "L-Love, you say…?" she repeated. The thought of a tall, chocolate-haired mage flitted briefly through her mind, before she shook her head. _He's dead, stupid fool_, she told herself. She didn't know if she meant Nagi was the stupid fool… or if she was.

"AUUUUUUGH!" Evangeline screamed. An invisible force, like a giant sledgehammer, slammed into her back, knocking her flat on her face.

"E-Evangeline-san?" Kinoshita screamed, bending down frantically to check on the vampire-mage.

"Hehehehe… Lookie what we got us here, boys," came a rough voice. Kinoshita looked up to see a tall man looming over her. Surrounding them were four more.

"G-Go away!" Kinoshita squeaked out.

"I don' think so." The stranger reached out and grabbed Kinoshita roughly.

"Let me GO!" she screamed. She began to flail, aiming kicks for the man's shins, but he hammer-fisted her over the head, and she slumped.

"Oi, Ryūji. Carry her, eh?" spoke the tall man, shoving Kinoshita towards another punk. He peered down at Evangeline. "Hmm… I don't feel like doubles tonight. Too bad; she's got a hella rack, eh?"

"God, do you see the tits on her? Man, you're gonna regret this later," piped up a third punk, younger-sounding than the others.

"Aw, shut up, Kyū," muttered a fourth, "let Sosuke do things his way. It's his call, anyway."

"Well, no shit," their leader, Sosuke, grumbled. "You boyz wanna have a good time, you come to me. Then you bitch about what I find? You suck worse than that bitch Hazuki."

"Man, don't remind me," piped up Ryūji, carrying Kinoshita over his shoulder. "What was she, like, thirty? You have weird tastes, man…"

* * *

"_Master. Master, wake up. Master."_

"Ugh…" Evangeline stirred, raising her head off the ground. She had a crick in her neck, the result of lying… She blinked. Chachamaru's head loomed above her, tilted just as oddly as Eva's own so that it appeared to Eva—who noted that she was lying in Chachamaru's lap on what appeared to be a park-bench—that Chachamaru was upside-down.

"Chachamaru…" began Evangeline, in a voice of deadly calm, "how long have I been like this?"

"I located you approximately one hour ago," Chachamaru replied. "You were unconscious and drained of magic, so I felt it wise to refrain from moving you until you awoke."

"What the hell happened…?" Eva wondered. She remembered being hit by… something. Voices… Voices…

"Master, you appear troubled," Chachamaru noted. "I was extremely worried. I heard the voices of men nearby when I found you, but I did not see them. I activated my cloaking, but—"

"Men?" Evangeline repeated. "Men… Kinoshita!"

"Pardon me, Master, but is Kinoshita-san an acquaintance of yours?" Chachamaru inquired.

"NO, YOU BAKA-ROBOT!" Eva yelled. "KINOSHITA IS THE GIRL I JUMPED, BEFORE SOME… SOMEONE JUMPED ME! WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GO? CHACHAMARU! WHERE DID YOU HEAR THE VOICES?"

"I heard them to the south, Master—" began Chachamaru. Evangeline leaped from Chachamaru's lap and sped off south. Chachamaru engaged her rocket-boosters and gave chase after her master

* * *

Evangeline burst through the side door of an abandoned warehouse on the south side of town. She could smell it: blood. Virgin blood.

"KINOSHITA!" Eva yelled. "KINOSHITA! HEY! ARE YOU BASTARDS STILL HERE? TRY GETTING THE JUMP ON ME AGAIN, YOU F—!"

"E-Eva-san…?" came a weak voice from the middle of the room.

"Oh… gods…" Eva stuttered. She flitted into the gloom, calling an orb of light into her hand. It fell upon a sight so horrid even to Evangeline's eyes that she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her from retching.

Kinoshita lay in a pool of her own blood, which seeped into a puddle beneath her head and torso. Cuts on her arms added to the bleeding: someone had either sliced her with a knife or whipped her. Her shirt and skirt where torn up the sides.

Evangeline dropped to her knees beside the girl. "Kinoshi… ta…" she choked out. Her eyes strayed to the girl's head wound: her hair glimmered, a grotesque, gore-stained auburn.

Evangeline reached trembling hands under Kinoshita's body and gently turned her over, holding the girl's neck in her hand. Eva felt tiny bones click; the girl's neck was most likely broken. "K-Kinoshita… w-what… the… those men… they… did this…?"

"Y-Yeah…" Kinoshita slurred.

"They… they… they…" Evangeline's eyes took on a glazed look. She could not believe it. "I… I wanted to drink your blood" Eva said, panic seeping into her voice. "And… if I had… But I attacked you, and you stayed in the park…"

"Eva-san…" Kinoshita murmured, opening her eyes just a crack. "I don't blame you. You're a vampire; you drink blood, right? But you… were nice to me. So… I don't blame you…"

Eva felt a tear trickle down her cheek. _How long has it been… since I cried for another?_ She wiped the tear away and averted her gaze from Kinoshita's sincere gaze. It was then that she noticed something white, a few feet away. Resting Kinoshita's head gently on the floor again, Eva rose and stepped gingerly over Kinoshita's supine form. Half-kneeling, Evangeline picked up the object—

"Master? Do you require assist—Master!" Chachamaru's voice rang in Eva's ears faintly. Evangeline heard the voice, heard the words, but they meant nothing, nothing compared to the pair of small, bloodstained white panties in Evangeline's hand—

"_Are you Kinoshita-san?"_

"_Who…?"_

"_I am Lady Evangeline's servant, Chachamaru. You are injured; we must—"_

Eva's eyes snapped open, turning a lurid rage-red. Her cloak flitted out from under her, snapping wide with a sudden gust of magic wind. She hovered up, righting herself with a corpse-like rigidness, like that of a zombie newly reawakened. A blood-red aura of pure hatred swept around Evangeline. She drew in a great breath through her nose and _exploded_ into motion, destroying the loading doors of the warehouse and shooting off like a red streak towards the east.

* * *

"Man, that chick was _tight_," Ryūji muttered. He was keeping watch along with Kyū at the entrance to their hideout, a dilapidated townhouse, while the other smoked up inside.

"Do you think… is it gonna be all right?" Kyū asked tentatively.

"Shit, man, don't think about it," Ryūji shot back. Truth be told, he was worried. When Sosuke had ordered them out, Ryūji didn't want to leave, if only to know what the hell was going on. But Sosuke had compelled them, somehow…

"Wh-What's—GAAAAH!" screamed Kyū. Ryūji looked up as blood and gore spattered over him.

"WHAT THE FU—?" he shouted. He screamed as talons sunk into his chest and tore it open, spilling his insides onto the doorstep.

* * *

"THE SHIT WAS THAT?" yelled Kenji, stabbing out a cigarette.

"Fuck if I know," muttered Honda, taking a toke. He was zoned completely out.

"You FUCKWAD!" Kenji shouted. "You can't tell me that was normal!"

"What the HELL is going on?" Sosuke stuck his head into the living room from the kitchen.

"Hell if I know!" Kenji shot back. "Ryū and Kyū just started screamin' like girls…"

"I always figured things would go south with them eventually…" muttered Sosuke. "Too soft for their own—"

His words were cut off in a flurry of blood as red talons decapitated Kenji and cut Honda in two, sending sprays of gore everywhere. Sosuke blinked as his gang disintegrated. Before him stood a blonde-haired, blood-stained avatar of death.

"Holy shit…" he muttered, impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you, Hot Tits."

"Who. The. FUCK. Do. You. THINK. YOU. _**ARE?**_" Evangeline screeched. "You… You… To a _defenceless GIRL!_"

"Hey, I like 'em defenceless," Sosuke shot back. "And what the fuck do you care? What's your story, sassy?"

"I am Evangeline, Magus Nosferatu, the Undead Mage. I am here to kill you."

"Oh…?" Sosuke murmured slyly. He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out a silver ring, set with an oval amethyst. "Well, we'll see how well that goes. You see this?" He held the ring up before slipping it onto his left hand. "Remember the park? No? Well, I can understand. This little beauty did the trick. Knocked you right out. Can't believe I netted myself a vamp—"

Sosuke choked in disbelief. He saw his left hand go spinning lazily away off to his right, severed at the wrist. Evangeline's face appeared a foot from his. He jumped back and bolted into the kitchen. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he shouted. Evangeline appeared in the doorway, holding Sosuke's hand. She plucked the ring from the severed appendage and nonchalantly flung the hand aside.

"I think I'll keep this," she said mildly, toying with it.

"Bitch…" Sosuke growled. "You have no idea who I am."

"Actually, I do," Eva replied coldly. "I was blinded by your 'toy' before, and my rage until now, but I know you now." Her eyes narrowed. "Demon."

Sosuke let out an unearthly growl. His features twisted into an unholy parody of a human face, full of infinite malice. He let out a howl and leaped forward, his good hand outstretched to strangle Eva.

A blast of purple light smashed him square in the chest. He dropped on the spot, wheezing. Eva contemplated the ring held delicately between her thumb and finger before slipping it onto her left pinky, where it glinted.

Evangeline stepped over to Sosuke and dropped beside him. She grasped his hair roughly and jerked him to his feet. "I wish to inflict upon you a thousand years of pain for what you did to Kinoshita," she hissed. She closed her eyes, pain etched on her face. "However, even if I had the time to spare, I would not leave you alive to perpetrate your evil."

"I believe the mortals have a saying," coughed out Sosuke, "Something about a pot and a kettle…"

Eva's eyes snapped open in fury. She hurtled Sosuke up, splintering the roof of the house. He flew hundreds of feet into the air, limp and helpless. Evangeline appeared above him, caught him, and hurtled him back down. He smashed back through the roof, and the house collapsed atop him.

Evangeline hung in the air, right hand raised above her head, talons poised. "I am no monster," Eva whispered. _"ENSIS EXSEQUINS!"_

She hurtled a bolt of magic down upon the ruined house, which exploded in a shower of icy splinters. Sosuke's tortured death-cry rang out across the city, so that all of its inhabitants cowered in primal fear at the sound.

Evangeline, panting, weary, numb, turned back the way she had come and drifted slowly back, dreading what she might find at the end.

* * *

Evangeline swept through the warehouse's huge entrance. She alighted wearily and peered in. Chachamaru had Kinoshita in her lap. Chachamaru looked up at the sound of Eva's entrance.

"Is she…?" Eva asked.

Chachamaru shook her head. "There is nothing to be done, Master," Chachamaru replied, her tone subdued. "I believe Kinoshita-san will not last much longer. I am amazed she has remained alive, conscious even, until now."

Evangeline knelt beside the dying girl. "Kinoshita…" Eva choked out the word. "I killed them. I killed those damn fools who did this to you. You don't have to worry about them any more."

Kinoshita stirred. "Why…? Why did you do it?" she asked.

"What?" Eva snapped back, as though it was obvious. "Why _not_? They… they—"

"Evangeline-san…" Kinoshita tried to shake her head, but failed. "Hatred only makes… hatred. Please… don't hate…" Kinoshita sighed.

"…Kino—" Eva reached for the girl's hand and felt for her pulse. Nothing.

Eva dropped the girl's hand. "God… GOD—GOD-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" she wailed. "GOD-!"

* * *

Takizawa fidgeted on his couch, the book he was reading open, his thumb holding a page. _She's two hours late_, he thought. What could have happened? _Should I call the police—?_

A rustling sound snapped him up. "What—?"

"Boy, are you Takizawa?" came a woman's voice.

He spun around. A tall, blonde-haired woman, speckled with blood, was standing behind him. He stumbled back, nearly knocking over the end-table. "Who are—?"

"Shut up." The woman stepped forward, lifting her hand as she did so. Takizawa looked at it, and couldn't believe his eyes. A pink bear keychain, dangling from bloody nails…

"What… No…" He reached for it, stumbling. He dropped to his knees. "K-Kinoshita…" He began to sob. "No… NO! NO!" he cried.

"Boy… Do you want her back?" the blonde woman asked.

"What the hell do you mean?" Takizawa shouted.

"I am a mage, and a master of the undead. I can bring her back to you…" The blonde woman's eyes gleamed evilly at the suggestion. "Though she will still be dead. Do you want this?"

"GET OUT!" Takizawa shouted. He grabbed the end table and swung, smashing it into the side of the woman's head. She stumbled into the wall, blinking. A tiny trickle of blood ran down her left temple. Slowly, the glazed look departed her eyes. She looked down at her hand, at the pink bear. She straightened slowly and moved to the couch, where she gently placed the bear on the armrest. "You can call the police and tell them that Kinoshita is in the warehouse on the south side of town," the woman informed him. "…I'm sorry."

She swept into the darkness of the house and disappeared, leaving Takizawa to wonder what horrible dream he was having. He shuffled to the couch and picked up the bear, staring listlessly at it for over an hour. Finally, he shuffled to the hallway and picked up the phone…

* * *

_0(315)013.M3 – Earth, Japan, Miyagi, Matsushima_

* * *

"_Master?"_

Evangeline snapped out of her reverie and sighed. Since that night, Eva had been quiet. She and Chachamaru had made their home in Zuigan-ji, the Zen training monastery in Matsushima. The monks had taken them in and left them to their own devices.

Evangeline had read in the newspapers about Kinoshita's discovery, along with the destroyed house, and had wondered just what was left for her. She felt burnt out and listless; life held no joy or happiness for her. She no longer revelled in the feeling of causing death and terror, having once again discovered those most potent of poisons and feeling their effects on herself.

"Master." Chachamaru rose, straightening her apron. She peered at her master with what might have been a frown, had Chachamaru been able to approximate such a thing. "I feel you have been unhappy for far too long. You were once so full of vigour, of…"

"Life?" Eva replied listlessly. "I am undead, baka-robot. Life has held no joy for me for many hundreds of years."

"Master, I am disappointed." Evangeline turned fully around in shock. Chachamaru, arms folded across her chest, levelled her most disapproving look at her master. "You mean to tell me that Evangeline, Magus Nosferatu, the Undead Mage, the Puppet Master… YOU, Master… You have gone soft?"

Evangeline stared incredulously at her servant. "You… you… you insubordinate… little… wench! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Evangeline bent over double with laughter. "You… you _dare_ to suggest that I… Evangeline… I am _soft_? Baka-robot! Idiot! HAHAHAHAHAHA! That's fresh! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"I am glad… you are amused," Chachamaru said, blinking; her own state was closer to "bemused" than "amused".

"Dammit! I think I _have_ gone soft," Eva panted, wiping a tear from her eye. "CHACHAMARU! LET'S GO!"

"To where, Master?" Chachamaru queried.

"To Fuji! Maybe I'll have an epiphany," Evangeline commented dryly. "Or maybe I'll just level the mountain for fun. Either way, I want to go, so let's."

"As you wish, Master," Chachamaru bowed.

* * *

Eva and Chachamaru returned their tea-set to the monastery and left a note of farewell. They then made their way to nearby Sendai and leaped onto the roof of a departing shinkansen, because Evangeline "didn't want to fly all the way to Tokyo" and "it's more fun to ride _outside_ at three hundred kilometres per hour". Chachamaru observed her master, hair streaming out behind her, appearing to revel in the high-speed ride. Chachamaru was inwardly pleased (if a robot could be such a thing) that her master had regained some of her energy.

They arrived in Tokyo just after three o'clock that afternoon, whereupon they flitted west to Mt. Fuji. Eva revelled in the sunlight, though was disappointed that it obscured their view of the mountain until they were nearly atop it.

"Ah, Fuji-san," Eva breathed as they alighted on the shore of Lake Sai to the north. "Chachamaru, is it not awesome? Its symmetry? Its grace?"

"Indeed, Master," murmured Chachamaru, bowing low.

"Oh, hush, Chacha," Eva scolded, "I know you're just humouring me."

"Of course, Master," Chachamaru bowed again.

Eva tutted in mock annoyance and stared up at the mountain. "Beautiful—"

* * *

A welling of power surrounded them. Evangeline looked around frantically as white light erupted around her and Chachamaru. She cried out ancient words of protection; a golden shell encased her and her ministra as power surged around them.

The bubble burst and dropped its contents into Lake Sai, one of the Five Lakes. Eva surfaced, retching out water, as Chachamaru hobbled onto shore, servos in her legs damaged by the blast.

"I'm surprised you aren't dead yet, little vamp," came a voice. A huge shadow descended from the sky. It was impossible to tell what it was: it was as though a silhouette of a giant or ogre had come to life.

"Little vamp?" repeated Eva, incredulous. She staggered to her feet. "I haven't a damn idea who you are, but I'll not be—"

A blast from the figure's hand would have silenced her permanently had Chachamaru not rocketed towards her master and swept her away in the nick of time. The blast-wave tore the lake in two and pushed the water back.

"PUT ME DOWN, CHACHAMARU, DAMMIT!" Eva shouted. "LET ME FIGHT!" Chachamaru obliged. "Thank you," Eva huffed. "Now we'll see—"

The shadow appeared behind her and slammed her to the ground; the earth around her cratered where she landed. The shadow spared a glance at Chachamaru, who shorted out and fell lifeless to join her master.

"Now… you die." The shadow raised its hand. Crackling golden light gathered in its palm. It dropped its hand—

* * *

Evangeline stirred. She was reclining, her head… on a pillow? She opened her eyes.

Above her knelt a huge man. She couldn't make out the details, but power spilled from him. It was as though a dam had burst, yet that dam was but a small portion of the vast river that was contained behind this man's human façade.

"Who are you?" Evangeline muttered.

"That does not matter right now," the figure rumbled.

"What happened?"

"You were cursed," the man replied. "It nearly killed you. You are only lucky I was here."

"Well, thank you for that, I suppose…" Eva sighed. She felt so tired.

"You are going to die," the man stated bluntly.

"Oh?" Eva chuckled. "That's about the most interesting thing that could happen to me, I think."

"How about… instead of that, you live forever?" the man whispered back.

"What?" Eva chuckled again. "I'm a damn _vampire_, don't you know? I _will_ live forever—"

"Weren't you listening?" the man grumbled. "I told you; you were cursed. You're going to die."

"Oh," Eva said simply. "Then… _what the hell are you babbling about, I'll live forever?_" she shrieked. She regretted her outburst instantly, as she began to hack and cough violently.

"I know what it is that felled you, Evangeline A.K. McDowell," the man murmured. "I know you have a high destiny before you, and to die here would be to break that destiny. However, if it is your will…"

"What the hell are you still on about?" Eva spat hoarsely.

"I will offer you a bargain," the man said. He straightened up to his full height. "Do you want revenge?"

"Yes…" Eva replied slowly.

"Do you want a reason to live?"

"_Yes…_" Eva said again, irritated now.

"Is that your only reason to live?" the man asked.

"…What? So what if it is?" Eva snapped.

"That alone is not enough," the man replied, "for, if I save you, your revenge will not be enough. When I lay the power of life upon you, you will not know your revenge."

"Well, that's a pretty lousy reason to go on living," Eva retorted. "I can't have my cake _or_ eat it."

"Quiet," the man muttered. "Listen: If I lay the power upon you, you will live. You will remember your name and who you are, but your memories of this life will be no more. Revenge, love, hate; all will be as dust to you. Your destiny is great and perilous, but it will be naught if you do not discover it yourself. You will find your destiny in service to a Master who cannot care for you, yet if you serve willingly, you will find your reward.

"Knowing this… do you still wish to live?"

Eva stared up, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger's face. She could make out some details: he appeared young, yet world-worn, experienced. Power, authority, _majesty_ radiated from him. _What he offers_, Eva thought, _a chance for… destiny?_ "What of Chachamaru?" Eva tried to look for her faithful servant.

"Your servant is badly damage," the man stated. "I could put her into suspended animation along with you, but…"

"Suspended_—what the hell?_" Eva burst out. "You're going to have me sleep this off?"

"Quite," the man replied, nonchalant.

Eva's head rolled back, stunned. "Oh, by the gods…"

"Speak not of the gods," the man rumbled dangerously, "lest you invoke their wrath."

Eva remained silent for a long time. The sun wheeled overhead, heading west. Shadows crept over Lake Sai, which had filled back in after it was rent in two.

"…What really happened?" Evangeline asked.

"Well, since you're either going to die here and now, or you'll accept my offer and forget, I will tell you." The man paused. "That creature is known as a Lord of Change. He is a fearsome daemon, an old and powerful monstrosity from… a realm beyond this one. He serves a god of great evil and cunning. He hoped to destroy you, since… you are a threat to his plans."

"I am?" Eva asked, confused.

"You are Evangeline. You have a great and forbidding destiny, and the Lord of Change would do anything to prevent it."

Eva began to chuckle, softly at first then harder and harder until she shook with mirth. "I can't believe it! Some insane demonic assassin comes after me because of what I _might_ do?" Eva gasped. "What _haven't_ I done already? Am I not the Dark Evangel?"

"Not yet," the man replied, a faint note of amusement in his voice, "though one day, you will earn that name."

Eva subsided. "…What must I do?"

"Answer me but one question," the man replied. _"Do you accept your fate?"_

_Eva closed her eyes. Vengeance… or death? How different were they? "I accept."_

_The main dropped a hand to her head. Her eyes fluttered as she felt herself spiral deep, deep into nothingness. As her lids closed, she tried one last time to focus on the man's face. Inexplicably, as she drew away from him, he seemed to shrink, growing smaller and older, until she saw… But not, it couldn't be? A wizen-faced, stood-shouldered, old man…? Was it him—?_

_**Blackness**_

* * *

_Evangeline floated in a vast darkness, her mind encased in a diamond-hard shell against the vagaries of time without. Her mortal form lay shrouded beneath a great mountain, hidden from casual eyes._

_The man had laid power upon Evangeline, bidding her sleep until her time should come. He warned her that her memories would fade to nothing; all she would know was her name, and that she had purpose. It was up to her to discover it._

_Evangeline slept, her faithful ministra, Chachamaru, in stasis beside her. It was Chachamaru's last wish that she be interred with her Master, so that, whatever should transpire, they would face it together, whether it be death, redemption, or anything beyond._

_Evangeline slept, and when she awoke, she would alter the fate of the galaxy._

* * *

**Chapter One: End**

* * *

**Notes**

The Prologue uses a non-standard Imperial date code system. For the standard Imperial date code system, visit ( wiki/Imperial_dating_system). Dates are Anno Domini (A.D.), meaning the dates are generally the same as those used currently and are measured since the birth of Christ.

a – Check Number. A mix of the author's proximity to Earth and if the source is first-hand, second-hand, etc.

bcd –Year Fraction. Standard Imperial years have 1000 administrative fractions; in the D.E. prologue, I used modern-day fractions of years (i.e., a number out of 365). 2012 is a leap year.

efg – Year (within the Millennium)

Mx – Millennium in which the event occurred. M41 is in the 41st millennium (i.e., the 40,000s); M3 is in the 2000s.

0(273)013.M3 – Earth, September 30, 2013

0(315)013.M3 – Earth, November 11, 2013


	2. Sleep Interrupted

**Author's Note:** Welcome to Chapter Two of Dark Evangel! I am very, very, very sorry that it's been so long since my last upload. I thank everyone who has added Dark Evangel to their Favourite Stories, though it makes me feel guilty that I haven't uploaded in _months_. Ugh… Since the last time, I've survived an earthquake, moved back home, and enrolled in University again.

However, thank you for sticking with me. I _have_ worked on the story, and I want to do justice to every chapter. I want this to be an epic story, and I hope you are all willing to stay along until the end.

If you haven't already done so, you might want to consider reading Long Shadows Over Mahora, my first story. It is a tie-in, though those events are _far_ in the future of D.E.

I would be happy to hear your opinions about it; I haven't looked at it in awhile.

Also, I want to plug Cloverfield's _Egg Belly_; many are her supporters, and we want our KonoSetsu story! Go tell her to get cracking!

Again, thanks for reading, and please review when you're finished! I present to you, without further delay, Dark Evangel Chapter Two!

Addenum: Just an update for Ch.2; I checked over a few spelling errors. Chapter 3 on the way soon, promise! (June 2012)

* * *

**Dark Evangel**

* * *

Chapter Two—Sleep Interrupted

* * *

_Endlessness. _

_Evangeline's mind drifted in the endless. Wrapped in a diamond-hard shell, she floated through infinity, protected from it yet at its mercy. Chachamaru drifted beside her master, the enchantments weaved by both Eva and her recent saviour the only thing connecting master and servant, keeping Chachamaru from falling into the abyss._

_Needless to say, powerful as Eva was and emotionless as Chachamaru was, neither would be blithely unconcerned about roving through eternity were they not in stasis, the boon granted by their powerful saviour back at the base of Mount Fuji._

_How many eons had it been since they entered sleep? None but the most farsighted could know; Evangeline's destiny was now beyond mortal hands._

_Unfortunately, immortals—powerful, ancient, wary, resentful, and angry—were watching and waiting, hoping for the slightest crack or flaw in the adamantine protection around Evangeline's mind. _

_For you see, the powerful one who wrapped Evangeline in a shield and set her to sleep revealed her destiny before he erased that same knowledge from her mind. In doing so, he forced her to accept his power, but he also revealed her destiny to any of those immortals canny enough to pierce the veil of time. And though the subject of this destiny was now sleeping unaware, others were not, and they would be damned to allow her to fulfil it…_

* * *

"_Where the bloody hell are we, Chachamaru?" whispered a voice in the void._

"_I do not know, Master," echoed the reply, as though from far away, or deep within a tunnel, "My internal chronograph is unable to read how much time has passed since we entered stasis. However, I feel as though it has been… very long."_

"_Since when do you allow feelings to sway your judgements, baka-robot? I think you got hit harder than you thought."_

Evangeline's eyes opened slowly. She stared up into darkness…

"What the hell?" she whispered to herself. "Chachamaru?"

"Here, master," came the reply from above her. Evangeline shifted slightly; she was lying in Chachamaru's lap.

"Can't you give us a light?" grumbled Eva.

"One moment, master; I must run diagnostics."

Eva huffed softly. "Very well."

A few moments passed, then—"I appear to be functional, master. However, I feel strange, and I do not believe I can use my lighting system. Please wait a moment; I will attempt to find a light-source."

Chachamaru placed Evangeline's head gently on the ground, using some garment as a pillow. Evangeline heard rustling nearby.

"Master, I appear to have located a lamp. I will attempt to light it. Please sit up; I will cast the light from behind you, so that you will not be blinded."

Evangeline said nothing as she rose slowly. More than Chachamaru's undue concern that she—a pure-blooded vampire—would not be able to see in sudden light… was that she could not see in the _dark_. What had become—?

"Master, your light."

Eva's pupils contracted against the sudden intrusion of light into the darkness as the lamp shimmered to life. And as the light rose, Evangeline looked on herself in shock.

Long, long ago, when Negi and his friends had thought to pry into the circumstances surrounding her turning, Evangeline had chastised them for wondering at how she could commit vampiristic atrocities when she inhabited the body of a small child. And while she had retorted that she _was_ over six hundred years old, she did concede that the body indeed informed the mind. As she had the body of a child, so she saw herself as a child.

However, she longed for the body of a mature woman, one that reflected her age in the way she desired; the woman she could never—as an immortal trapped in a human shell—grow to become. Knowing this, she crafted for herself a glamour, projecting the appearance of a luscious woman to lure and throw off the men (and women, let it be said) who chased after her. Truly, this image fit the description "vamp" in every way.

But what Evangeline saw now was no illusion, no trick. She had made no glamour, woven no webs of enchantment about her. The sight that greeted her… was herself.

Her shapely legs—feet snug in two-inch black stilettos—peeked out from beneath her long, translucent gown, which glowed dark pink in the lamplight. Her finely-pointed nails glinted blood-red at the ends of her fingers, themselves grown delicately and matching her long, graceful arms. Her breasts swelled, full and firm, beneath her black leather bustier, finely trimmed with pink lace. Her hair swept golden in shining rivers down her back, spreading out to contrast sharply with her long, black cape.

She stood slowly, staring at her hands in disbelief. She reached to her face, feeling her skin, soft beneath her fingertips. She wobbled only slightly, disoriented by how _tall_ she felt, how long her limbs were…

"Chachamaru…" she whispered, "I'm… I'm…" At an amazed sigh from behind her, Evangeline spun around and gasped.

Standing in flickering shadows cast by the lamp clutched in her left hand, Chachamaru looked upon her master with undisguised wonder, who returned the stare with equal amazement. Chachamaru's face—distinguished by her flat, green-tinted eyes, matching her hair—was changed beyond all recognition.

Piercing green eyes, bright like a meadow at noon, gazed from beneath long blonde hair, charming ringlets framing a delicate face and hiding small, pointed ears (replacing what had once been antennae).

Evangeline's gaze swept down Chachamaru's body. Delicate skin—so much like a porcelain doll, so much like her own—greeted the vampire's gaze. Elegant arms, dainty fingers, and long, strong legs, as well as— Evangeline stopped suddenly, a blush creeping into her face as she realized _just why_ she could see so much of Chachamaru's body…

Chachamaru sighed. "Master… You are… beautiful."

Eva's blush deepened; she was glad the flickering light did not show her whole face. "A-A-As are… you…" Evangeline stammered, wondering at her sudden loss for words. "Ch-Chachamaru… You, um… Clothes…?"

Chachamaru blinked, uncomprehending. She brought up her free hand to her face, staring at it before touching her face. "I…" She looked down, suddenly noticing her nakedness, her full breasts and—"Ah…" Chachamaru breathed. "I see my… nakedness has disconcerted you… mistress." The last word whispered, a _touch_ of something extra in it.

Evangeline felt the heat rise behind her nose. "Y-Yes, quite," she panted. A faint trickle of blood crept down from her nose to her lip. _Well, isn't that novel_, she thought dazedly, _a girl-vampire who makes blood instead of drinking it._ "A-As such… You ought to… clothe yourself."

Chachamaru bowed, sweeping her free hand over her breasts in an effort to protect her modesty… and her mistress's dignity. "My clothing should be where I left it, mistress. I believe you were using it as a pillow." She began to move towards the pile of clothes behind Evangeline.

Evangeline's face turned crimson as Chachamaru approached, thinking about how the clothing had to have been removed to be used—"B-Baka—Baka!" she tried to shout, but choked. "D-Don't make such… suggestive remarks!"

Chachamaru stopped, a foot from Evangeline. Mistress and servant held each other's gaze for a heartbeat. "I apologize, mistress." Chachamaru swept low, arm still cupped beneath her chest, which brought her breasts to prominence when she bowed. Evangeline averted her gaze, and Chachamaru rose, walking past without further comment.

"Now," Evangeline sighed, running a hand through her bangs, "where the devil are we? And," she added, her voice coloured by the slightest tone of anger, "what the bloody hell happened?"

"I know not, mistress," came Chachamaru's voice. Evangeline turned and saw that Chachamaru was once again clothed… though the rips and tears in her meido uniform opened much to desiring eyes—

"DAMMIT, Chachamaru!" Evangeline half-yelled. "You look a wreck! Fix your uniform!"

Chachamaru looked down at the sorry state of her garments. "My sincere apologies, mistress," she replied, "I shall mend my dress at once."

_Good,_ Eva thought, _gives me time to think._ "Chachamaru, do you think you can talk and work?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Bloody good." Evangeline cupped her breasts beneath her arm and laid her chin in her hand. _Hmm… I cannot say I am displeased with how _these_ turned out_, she thought, glancing down briefly, _though the "how" and "why", I would like to know._

"Chachamaru, listen. I shall summarize what I believe has happened here. Listen, and if you have any ideas to add, please feel free." Chachamaru murmured her assent, and Evangeline began:

"We can believe, with some certainty, that we are _not_ dead. Well, I was undead and you were a robot, but that seems to be beside the point, now, doesn't it?"

"Your concern for my welfare is much appreciated, mistress."

"We are… somewhere. We don't know where, so let us ignore that for now. We know _who_ we are. I am Evangeline, and you are Chachamaru. However, _what_ we are… has changed dramatically. You are… no longer a robot."

Chachamaru nodded, pausing in her work to look at herself again. "I am… human."

Evangeline nodded. "Indeed, it would seem so… Wait. You yourself said you wanted to perform diagnostics. What was… the result?"

Chachamaru stood up. She had managed to lessen the size of the holes in her uniform, and Evangeline could not see as much of Chachamaru's… _skin_… any longer. "When I ran my diagnostics, I did not have the usual… sense of… computation."

"And what, pray tell, does that mean?" Evangeline responded. "I am not, nor ever was, either a robot or an engineer, so I haven't the faintest idea what your 'sense of computation' entails."

"I mean to say, mistress, that I experience the process of computation in a… distinct way." Here she paused, blushing slightly, before bowing, embarrassed. "I wish I could explain better, mistress, but I do not know how to say such a thing in human terms."

"Ironic, considering you now appear to be human," Eva retorted, without malice.

"Yes, mistress," Chachamaru conceded. "However, upon review, I no longer believe that I _am_, in fact, human."

Evangeline blinked, dropping her arms a fraction. "And why might that be?"

"Because I still experience computation," Chachamaru replied matter-of-factly.

"…So," Eva said slowly, "if I understand you correctly… you usually experience a unique 'sense of computation' as a robot, and you did not experience such a thing, but you still do, to some degree?"

"I… I am embarrassed to say… yes, mistress," Chachamaru blushed hugely, bowing low and muttering apologies.

"Oh, straighten up, Chachamaru!" Eva barked, not unkindly. "You needn't grovel. Surely you, a robot, must have difficulty expressing human emo—"

"Mistress, I am sorry to interrupt, but I believe I am _more_ than 'just' a robot."

Eva stopped dead. "More than?" she repeated, deadpan. "By the—Chachamaru!" Eva scolded. "Will you damn well decide if you are a human or robot already? You have, in the space of a few minutes, accepted and rejected both hypotheses—"

"Yes, mistress." Chachamaru straightened, still blushing. "I believe… I am both human _and_ robot." Her head dipped, her face sheepish, as though Eva would berate her for saying such an outrageous thing. However, to Chachamaru's surprise (another new sensation for her), Eva looked upon her servant with wondrous incredulity.

"A robo-human…" Eva pondered. She suddenly grinned wickedly. "Well, better than being a 'baka-robot', I suppose, though I believe most mortals are idiots."

Chachamaru smiled slightly, hopefully; Eva noticed, her grin softening. "Not you, though."

Chachamaru's smile widened in happiness. "I am… beginning to like these human emotions," she muttered to herself.

"You may come to regret them," Eva replied, playfully, but with a hint of sadness. On that thought, both women sobered considerably.

"I think the time for fun and games is over, Chacha," Eva stated pointedly, "not the least of reasons being… I don't suppose you remember what we were doing?"

"Doing, mistress?" Chachamaru repeated, equally puzzled.

"Yes. Surely we _were_ doing… _something_." Evangeline waved a hand vaguely. "We _do_ things, do we not?"

"Er… Yes, mistress…" Chachamaru trailed off, unsure as to what her mistress wanted to hear.

"Chachamaru…" Eva said, with the faintest hint of reproach, "I don't want a 'yes-man', or rather, 'yes-woman' or 'yes-bot' or 'yes-whatever-you-are-now'; I need _ideas_. I require your meaningful contribution to our situation, not just platitudes."

"I… I serve your needs, mistress," Chachamaru replied, bowing yet again.

"Very good." Eva shook her head. "So, what were we doing that we arrived in this place that we do not know and in a time that we are unaware of?"

"Um…" Chachamaru glanced around, actually noticing for the first time where they were: It was a large, dingy room. Thick, square columns supported the low roof, and the rows stretched for quite some distance.

"I cannot believe we came here of our own accord, mistress," Chachamaru stated. "Such a place is… not fit for women, I think."

"Hmm…" Eva also looked around. "Nasty, dirty place, no?"

"Mistress…" Chachamaru cocked her head to one side, eyeing her mistress. "Perhaps… we are here… because of me."

"Because of you?"

"Because of me," Chachamaru reiterated. "Consider, mistress: Whatever has befallen us has changed us, or perhaps we were changed before… something else happened." She scratched her head. "Either way, perhaps the event and the change are connected somehow, and we were seeking the answer to what changed us. And perhaps the intervening time, or the events surrounding our coming here, have caused us to forget our purpose."

Eva huffed. "I hate when that happens. Used to be just when I got bored…"

"Mistress…" Chachamaru said slowly, eyeing Evangeline with the look of trepidation usually reserved for when the servant was about to do something most displeasing to her mistress.

"Oh, no; you've got that look." Eva sighed. "What?"

"Mistress… Are you… Are you… still…?"

"Still _what_, Chacha—Oh…" Eva raised her hands, looking at her nails. "Am I… still a vampire?" Chachamaru lowered her head, as though ashamed to even ask. Eva frowned. "Am I still a vampire?" she repeated to herself. "I don't… know. I mean… I've _aged_. Such a thing… ought to be impossible…"

"Mistress, I fear that we are changed beyond recognition. Were our… our… our…"

"Chachamaru?" Eva asked, concerned.

"M-Mistress, I… I tried to… _remember_, but—"

"Remember what—Oh, of course you wouldn't know if you couldn't remember in the first place…" Eva trailed off. "Were you trying to remember our friends—GAAAAAH!"

A massive force slammed into Evangeline; it was as though a thunderbolt had shot directly into her head. She swooned; Chachamaru rushed to her side to steady her.

"Mistress!"

"I… I shall be all right, Chachamaru," Eva said weakly. "Well, now…" She raised a hand to her forehead, as if to steady her mind. "Our memories have been tampered with… It would be unwise to force many of our memories to surface, I think… Unless you want to go into system-shock or I want my brain to erupt from my skull… Not pretty."

"Mistress, I would suggest we exit this place. There appears to be neither anything of interest here nor any means to earn ourselves food or rest."

"Yes… Let us go. And wherever we find ourselves… We must act as though it is the first day of our lives… Our new lives."

* * *

Evangeline and Chachamaru, the latter still carrying the lamp, made their way down the long, low room. Neither would venture a guess as to how long they walked, though it was probably not more than half-an-hour at the most. Their eyesight was impaired; the transformation wrought upon them meant that Evangeline's vampiric eyesight and Chachamaru's robotic visual cortices were no longer available to them. However, once they adjusted to the dinginess in the room, they found they could see reasonably well, and they kept their guard up, moving quietly and warily forward.

After some time, they came to a door. Closed, and possibly locked, it took both of them to force it open to clang against the wall behind, leading into a stairwell. After a brief conference, Evangeline decided that they would ascend rather than descend the stairs. Given that there were no windows in the room they came from, and the air was dry and stuffy already, going lower was most likely to lead only further underground, where they would be unable to exit. Going higher, by contrast, might lead either to ground level or to the roof. Either way, they would come to a better understanding of their location.

The iron stairs, like the door, were slightly rusted but well-preserved. However, some stairs were rotted out; others sagged beneath the weight of the two women. Chachamaru took the lead, lending her steady hand to her mistress over obstacles and testing each step as they progressed. They passed other doors, leading out from landings on the stairs; however, Evangeline declared that opening them would be a waste of time. They might well be locked as the first one was, and while nothing might lay beyond them, it might equally be true that something dangerous lay beyond. Better to leave closed doors shut.

After perhaps another half-hour of agonizingly slow progress, Eva and Chachamaru reached the top of the stairs. They took a pause to steel themselves against what they might find.

"Chachamaru, are you ready?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Whatever befalls us," said Evangeline softly, "we must work together. I thank you for your loyalty, Chachamaru."

Chachamaru nodded briefly in thanks. She eyed the lock on the door: it was a large lever-type, which functioned by turning a counter-balance within. If she could force it enough, it would almost undoubtedly open.

She gripped it strongly in both hands and pushed with all the strength she could muster. For three long seconds (in which Chachamaru became acquainted with muscular strain for the first time), the lock groaned, until—with an inner _clang_—the locking bar disengaged. Chachamaru drew up, nodded to her mistress, and kicked the door near its handle; it opened a crack and, together, Chachamaru and Eva forced it open wide.

* * *

They stood in the shelter of the door, gazing out wary and alert. The street before them was deserted and dark: it was night, and few lights shone out; those that did were shuttered in high windows. A few dim streetlamps flickered here and there. Clouds skittered across the sky, as though trying to sneak furtively by.

"Well… Isn't this lovely." Eva peeked around the corner of the door. "Not a soul, Chacha. Perhaps it's dinnertime?"

"Perhaps, mistress."

Evangeline stepped out of the doorway, Chachamaru pushing it shut behind them. She lifted the lamp and peered around. "As you say, mistress, I see no one."

"Hmm… What to do. Find someone to ask about our current condition, or avoid them and hope that they do not become suspicious."

"I would advise evasion for the moment, mistress, at least until we can find someone of open mind to confide in."

"Well said, Chachamaru. However, we cannot skulk forever; we must find sustenance. I don't have an urge for blood, and I doubt you need to be plugged in to a wall-socket, so that means we need food and water, not to mention a roof over our heads."

"I fear, mistress, that we could not pay for any such thing."

Evangeline grimaced. "Humph… I never did pay for a thing in my life…" She glanced around again. "Well, Chachamaru, let's go. Standing here will do us no good, so we may as well head off." She looked one way, then the other, as if to find some clue.

A cloud moved aside, and Evangeline stared up just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of the moon, half-full, before it was covered again.

"A pity the moon is not full, mistress," Chachamaru observed, "your powers would—"

"That is not Earth's Moon, Chachamaru."

"I—Mistress?"

Evangeline's head dropped a fraction. "We… are no longer on Earth."

Chachamaru's jaw dropped. (Really, these new emotions were certainly getting the better of her today.) "Not on Earth? I— Ohh…"

Chachamaru swayed, as though about to keel over and faint. Evangeline turned on the spot and caught her giddy servant. "Ugh… I liked you better when you were a robot, I think," Eva grumbled. "At least then you had a low-battery warning."

"My apologies, mistress," Chachamaru replied feebly.

Evangeline snapped her fingers under Chachamaru's nose and slapped her weakly, hauling her upright. "C'mon, up with you. There; let's go."

With Chachamaru recovered from her shock, they set off in the direction of the moon, keeping their eyes open. No one called out to them or passed them in the street, and they saw no one peering out from windows or alleyways either.

"This is bloody well stupid… Heh, heh, heh… It's the stupidest thing ever, really… Heh, heh, heh…"

"How so, mistress?"

"Are you _daft_, Chachamaru?" Eva screeched, approaching hysteria. "We haven't a damn idea where we are—even what damned _planet_ we're on!—in the middle of a deserted city, with no money, no lodging, no noth—!"

_SLAP!_ "Mistress, please get a hold of yourself."

"…Thank you, Chachamaru."

"Yes, mistress."

Eva and Chachamaru paused for a moment, looking around. "Not a damn thing looks different than it did… how long ago did we start walking?"

"By my best guess, mistress, it is approximately two hours since we awoke, and no more than ten minutes since we began to walk."

"Meaning we've been awake for two hours too long without the slightest clue as to our situation…" Eva grumbled.

"No so, mistress; we are alive, apparently human, in a large but empty city that is not on Earth."

"…Very succinct, Chacha."

"I live to serve."

Eva peered farther down the street. "Hmm? Chachamaru, look there." She pointed away to the right. Light shone up from belowground, throwing what looked like steps into silhouette. There appeared to be a sign overhead. They quickly moved closer.

"_The… Blue… Tap_?"

"Mistress, I might presume this is…"

"…a pub." Eva inhaled slightly through her nostrils, expelling it in a slow gust through pursed lips. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"At worst, we could ask the local inhabitants about… well, our locale, and perhaps get something to drink."

"Don't touch a damn thing that doesn't look and smell like water, Chachamaru."

"But, as for payment, mistress—"

"Chachamaru, I know you're not a complete fool; nor am I. I know we don't have any money, or what passes for money. Though, perhaps…" She ruffled through her clothes. "Nope. I haven't any paper or coin. You?"

"…No."

"Well, more's the pity. Anyway, don't talk too much about ourselves, don't make eye contact. Let them do the talking, and I'll speak for us."

"Surely, mistress… I may reply?"

"Chachamaru, while I can appreciate you now have more human-like sentience—"

"Sapience, mistress."

"—Chachamaru, I need not an excuse to pay you back for slapping me."

"Yes, mistress."

"As said, your heightened sense self-awareness and abilities of judgement notwithstanding, do you think now is the best time to begin testing the new limitations of your thought process as pertains to answering boorish questions about _who we are and who we are not?_"

"I shall remain quiet."

"Jolly good. You'll make such fine company."

"I begin to understand the appeal of irony, mistress."

"We'll work on that in the morning."

* * *

Evangeline and Chachamaru stood in the doorway of the pub, blinking to clear their eyes. The room had a low ceiling, perhaps no more than eight feet high. Cross-braced supports lowered the height another two feet in places. Everything looked rough-hewn, as though cut straight from recently-felled timber, and yet it had an oddly polished look, perhaps from the perpetual cigar smoke that seemed to coil up from the tables. All of the patrons were men, ranging from mechanics to dockhands. Most were still dressed in work clothes that looked as if they hadn't been washed in weeks, though the men in them were hardly any better-looking. There was a low babble of conversation: men laughing quietly at their fellows' jokes or grunting about the state of the economy. The frequent _clack_ of ceramic came from what looked like a billiard table off to the right, and smaller _clicks_ as men played cards and gambled their meagre purses away.

A violinist and a cellist were playing low, mournful music from their seats off to the left, beside the long bar, which must have been about twenty feet long; the inside of the pub was quite a bit larger than it appeared from the outside. About ten round-tables of six chairs each were squeezed inside, as well as fifteen seats at the bar itself. Serving girls, dressed in nearly as little as Evangeline, wove between the tables, scuttling around chairs as they brought fresh drinks to the men.

"Filthy habit, smoking."

"Quite. Let's sit."

Evangeline descended first, Chachamaru following slowly behind. Nobody paid the pair any attention as they slid across the back wall, looking for a clear aisle. They spotted a pair of empty stools on the right-hand side of the bar, fourth and fifth from the end. They sidled up without attracting any undue attention. The barman, a surly-looking fellow, turned to them, wiping a glass. "I can serve you, yeah?"

"Hope you don't mind if we just sit a moment." Eva raised an eyebrow.

The barman frowned. "Humph. 'S'long as you don't cause no trouble, yeah?"

"Certainly not."

The barman muttered something and turned back to cleaning his glasses.

"Mistress, what now?"

"Now, we wait. Keep your ears open, Chachamaru, but keep your eyes to yourself. As he said, we don't want any trouble."

Two glasses came down with a solid _thunk_ in front of them. "First one's on the house, aye?"

Eva raised her glass and sniffed. "I trust this is what passes for water here."

"Humph. 'Course it's water. You ain't from around here, else you'd've ordered already. That ain't free, o' course, but…" He leaned closer. "Say—"

"Hey, girlie! Why dontcha come on back with us tonight, eh?"

Heads swivelled as a serving girl (surely no older than eighteen) was pulled in by a drunkard a few tables away from Eva and Chachamaru. Patrons at the surrounding tables scuttled backwards.

"Whaddya say, hon? You look fresh."

"Get off me!" The girl tried to break free; the drunk reeled her in again.

"Aw, now don't play hard to get, eh?"

A second man stood up. "I got a better idea. Maybe she won't try to run—"

He shoved; the girl dropped to the floor with a clatter, tangling in a chair. Evangeline heard two distinct _snaps_, followed by a gasped shriek from the girl. Eva spun around to see the girl's face had gone white, her leg bent at an odd angle.

"Sierra!" shouted the barman. "Traskovsky, you damned—!"

Eva flew from her seat, across three tables, and landed before the man called Traskovsky.

"Bastard." She lashed out with her hand, grabbing him around the throat and lifting him off the floor with barely an effort.

His three friends all made to lunge for Evangeline, but each was felled by a swift legsweep by Chachamaru. None of them saw it coming.

"Now…" Eva smiled menacingly. "I've been looking for someone to vent my frustrations on tonight. Would you like to be him?" She squeezed with her taloned fingers just to make sure she had his attention. He began choking, shaking his head.

"No? Well then, you rat bastard, how about you pay up for what you did to the girl and get the hell out?" spat Eva, enraged.

The man's friends each hurriedly pulled out their wallets and dumped a pile of coins on the table. Eva shoved Traskovsky into the arms of one of his friends and gave them a kick for good measure; they stumbled out of the pub, cursing under their breath.

"Men." Eva turned to the girl. "Are you w—?"

Blue eyes framed by chocolate hair looked up at Evangeline. For a moment, Evangeline stared past the girl, back into a distant past, as recognition surfaced—

き_—_

She shook her head. "Are you well, child?"

The girl nodded, biting her lip in pain.

"Sierra!" The barman rushed around to help. "Are you all right?"

"Allow me, sir." Chachamaru knelt next to Sierra. Gently, she extracted the girl's legs from the wreckage of the chair and began to feel gently along the length of them, starting with the left before moving to the right. Sierra flinched when Chachamaru ran her hands along her knee and shin.

"I fear she has damaged the ligaments in her knee, as well as possibly cracked her shin."

The barman muttered what must have been a curse. "Aye, so what's to be done?"

Chachamaru frowned. "Where is this girl's quarters?"

"She lives upstairs, at back."

"Mistress, would you be so kind as to pick up the longer fragments of wood from the chair? I can splint the girl's leg for the night after I carry her up to her room."

"Very well."

Chachamaru gently lifted Sierra in her arms; the girl clung tightly to her rescuer as she made her way to the stairs behind the bar.

"Arienny! Mathilda!" the barman barked, "Clean this mess up! The rest of you: We're closed! Pay up!"

Groans rose from the remaining patrons as they withdrew their wallets, paying their tabs or—in the case of the gamblers—their debts.

Eva stooped to pick up whatever pieces of the broken chair were still serviceable for a splint. A shadow loomed over her, causing her to pause.

"Will Sierra be all right?" the barman asked.

"My… friend should make her comfortable for the night," Eva replied.

The barman eyed the broken wood. "She won't use that to… cut her up, now?"

"Ha! Hardly. She'll use these to set the girl's leg straight so it can't move." Eva eyed the barman. "You've never set a splint?"

The barman shook his head. "I've thrown more than a few lads on their heads… or out on their arses. Never gave much thought to the afterward, though."

Chachamaru descended from the stairs. "Sir, do you have any lengths of cloth? Ones that you don't mind never seeing whole again, that is."

The barman pointed. "Fifth drawer from the right."

"I trust they're the clean ones," Eva drawled.

The barman scowled. "I ain't fool enough to give you dirty ones to work with."

Chachamaru retrieved the cloths before disappearing upstairs again.

"She'll be wanting hot water soon, I'm sure," Eva informed the barman.

"Annette!" the barman called down the room, "boil water and bring it to Sierra's room. Help the woman tend to her." He turned to Evangeline. "Well, now… I thought I said I wanted no trouble of you."

"Humph!" Eva chuckled. "If I _hadn't_ been here, who would have stood up for your Sierra?"

"Perhaps… Perhaps not. That is beside the point, lassie. I'm now out my best girl, and like it or not, you're in the middle of it." He sat down on a stool.

"So…" Evangeline let the pause linger for a long moment before smiling every so slightly. "What would you have me do?"

"Mmm… Aye, that's the rub. Can't say you caused it, but… You're here, and you're involved. I'd like to think… you'd be willing to take on her responsibilities."

"And what, pray tell, might those be?"

"Well, you can probably guess, being this is a tap. They're serving girls, them, so they sit the men, serve 'em, and clean up. Though usually there's less blood, har."

Eva rolled her eyes at the barman's lame attempt at humour.

"Of course, I have a few other girls that come in every little while to… _perform_."

"Perform?"

"Stage show. With… very little clothing."

Evangeline took a good look around, now getting the measure of this place. She saw posters of what she took to be the "performers", and indeed their clothes ranged from teasing to scanty, all of them titillating to some degree. She considered her own attire, and smirked that she would fit in quite well.

"Hmm…" She grinned ferociously, baring her fangs. "I dare any two girls to do better than I at any task you set me."

The barman recoiled slightly at her grin. "I would not try you, lassie. In fact, I think you'd keep order here better than many a man, for the sight of a long-fanged woman would give him pause. I used to have Tom Boudreaux as my doorman, but he's never come 'round since he broke his arm on the docks. I think you'll do. As for payment…" He hesitated.

Eva took pity on him. "You don't think you can afford to pay us both, but you don't want to slight us, do you? And you still have to pay Sierra.

"I propose a compromise: You pay me and my friend three-quarters of the normal wage. You would save half the pay compared to hiring two other girls on for the full time. Of course, we need lodging too…"

"I can provide that," the barman cut in, "included in the pay."

"Fair enough. We two only need a single room."

The barman nodded. He slapped his palm against the bar before extending it. Eva hesitated a brief moment before repeating the gesture and shaking his hand.

"Welcome to the Blue Tap," the barman exclaimed. "My name's George."

"I—" Eva hesitated. "I am Athanasia. My friend is Katherine."

"So… Off-worlders, eh? Come in by ship?"

"Yes…" Evangeline was cautious. Better to let the man lead with his questions and filter the answers than to give him a story. As she listened to his queries, she would get a better picture of the state of things.

George questioned her for about an hour, trying to figure out how Eva and Chachamaru came to the planet. Evangeline feigned ignorance of the system at large, claiming to have hitched a ride aboard a merchant ship. George couldn't blame her for that; he knew of many who moved around constantly, hoping for a better chance elsewhere. He told her that she had arrived on Gisacor, in the galactic north-west of Old Earth, and that this was the town of Purdue in the 122nd Autonomous Region.

She also claimed to have lost track of time aboard the vessel, and asked George what the date was. He consulted a calendar and made several cross-references and calculations, telling her about the sidereal calendar based on "Terra's" (Earth's) original calendar. Current date: 471-606.M25 sidereal. Since Evangeline was from a different planet that didn't use the sidereal calendar like Gisacor did (wink), George explained that it was the 471st day of the 606th year of the 25th Millennium.

Outwardly, Eva was calm, but inside she balked. It had been over twenty millennia since she had been on Earth. Twenty millennia since… since…

…Since _what_? She could not remember. And how was she so certain that she had last been on Earth in the 2nd Millennium…?

* * *

Her reverie was broken by Chachamaru, who informed George that Sierra would likely recover fully, given time. George was relieved, and thanked her profusely. He then introduced himself to her, and Eva winked when he called her "Katherine". Chachamaru covered her surprise smoothly, and thanked George for arranging their work and lodging with her mistress. George was effusive in his praise for both "Athanasia" and "Katherine" in helping him that evening. He offered them a bonus of three hours' pay; they accepted only on the condition that he let them help finish the cleaning. He acquiesced, and they took another hour to straighten up before George sent them up for the night, promising to start training them the following day.

* * *

Deep in the night, Evangeline and Chachamaru pressed against each other for warmth in their double bed. Though neither knew it, each was a comfort to the other, soothing the fear in their hearts: the fear of not knowing either where they were or _what_ they were any longer. Eva was plagued by doubt about her own sudden mortality; Chachamaru was afraid that she had become less of a servant for Evangeline, less trustworthy.

However, as they slipped into the embrace of sleep, they remained secure in each other's embrace as well, and the darkness that seeped around the corners of their minds was held at bay, at least for one night…

* * *

**Chapter Two: End**


	3. How to Domesticate a Vampire

**Author's Note:** Well, here we are with Chapter Three of Dark Evangel. Feth me sideways; I know it's been a very long time since I last updated, like… Sacred Feth, almost a year? Makes me very happy and very guilty when you—my fans—add my stories to your favourites: happy because you want to read them, guilty because I can't write that fast. -.-;

That aside, thank you very much for waiting patiently. Without forcing you to wait any longer, I present Dark Evangel Chapter Three!

* * *

**Dark Evangel**

* * *

**Chapter Three—How to Domesticate a Vampire**

* * *

_What a strange twist of fate._

Evangeline stood silently at the foot of the Blue Tap's staircase in the pre-dawn hours, surveying her new home. Her eyes—formerly able to pierce most any dark—had been forced to adjust to the lack of light, but now she found she could see fairly well.

The damage done by the previous night's rowdy bar crowd had been mostly cleaned up; a few chairs were damaged, but nothing that couldn't be repaired. The tables had all been wiped down and straightened, and all the serving glasses returned to their proper place.

"Mistress?" A quiet voice and a shuffle on the stairs brought Eva's attention away from the bar. She turned to look past her shoulder; Chachamaru, yawning, moved slowly down the stairs, her right hand on the rail while she brushed the sleep from her eyes with her left. She wore a simple white shift, the twin to Eva's own, lent to them by the other serving girls. Chachamaru paused two steps above the floor, running a hand through her blonde locks.

Eva smiled, delighted; Chachamaru's eyes opened fully upon seeing it. "Wh-What is it?" Chachamaru asked.

"Chachamaru… You're cute when you're sleepy."

Chachamaru blushed fiercely at that, her green eyes going wide with shock. "M-Mistress!"

"What?" Eva laughed.

"It's just… you've never… said anything like that…" Chachamaru stared away, embarrassed.

Eva sobered. "You're right… I never really did give you any compliments, did I?" She turned back to contemplating the bar. "Then again, you've never _been_ sleepy. But… Chachamaru, I can't help but think of how things must have changed for us, for _sleepiness_ to be something noteworthy.

"Consider: Here we are. Just think about what that means. We are here, in this place, at this time, and we are who we are. What all of those things are, we do not know for certain, nor do we know them well. But this reality exists, and we must adapt.

"I feel a great weight has been lifted from me, Chachamaru. I no longer feel the urge to bring death and misery and to wallow in blood and gore like I did so long ago. Our past is gone; we do not remember it, and it causes us pain when we try.

"And perhaps it is for the best." Eva once again surveyed the room, her eyes roaming from the farther side to the nearer. "Now, we have a chance to be whatever we desire. For now, we are wanderers who have settled for being bar-girls to repay a debt."

Eva turned to Chachamaru. "Chachamaru, let me say this: Today is the first day of our new lives. We have taken on new names to show that. I am Athanasia; you are Katherine. Let us put on those names like a mantle; they will show the world who we are. But let us keep our old names close, so that they might be a comfort." She grinned mischievously. "I suppose that makes the latter something like underwear."

Chachamaru went beet-red at that. Eva twitched an eyebrow. "I trust the concept of underwear is not above you, Chachamaru. Do I need to check if you're wearing some?"

"Mistress…!" Chachamaru squeaked, mortified at the thought.

A muffled _clunk_ and moan from upstairs brought Chachamaru out of her turmoil. She hurried back the way she came, Evangeline close behind. They reached the last door on the right and went in.

Sierra lay face down in her room. She moaned again.

"Sierra, what happened?" Chachamaru gently prised the girl off the floor and pulled her back up onto her bed.

"Ahh… Miss Katherine…" Sierra's eyes were half-closed in pain. "I'm sorry. I know you told me to stay in bed, but I… I had to go to the toilet…" She trailed off quietly.

"I understand. Come; I'll help you." Chachamaru slung Sierra's arm over her shoulders and together they made their way down the hall to the stairs. Evangeline remained a moment longer, taking in the room. It was much the same as her own: bed to one side, chest of drawers and a mirror to the other, desk beside that, and a small window opposite the door.

The sound of a flush from down the hall cut her inspection off. Sierra and Chachamaru trudged back into the room, the latter supporting the former as she limped to bed again.

"Thank you," Sierra gasped as she lied down. "I'm so sorry to be a burden to you…"

"Well," Eva purred, "we're hardly pleased to be able to take advantage of your misfortune, but your unfortunate run-in with the late crowd has given us an unexpected chance to start a new life here immediately. Isn't that so, Cha—Katherine?"

"Yes," Chachamaru replied.

"You must have had… an interesting life," Sierra murmured, closing her eyes against discomfort as she shifted her leg in a bid for more comfort.

"Like you wouldn't believe, dear," Eva drawled. Sierra's eyes popped open at that, but she made no comment.

"So…" Eva cast about for a topic of conversation. "What… generally happens around here when it's daylight?"

"Not much," Sierra admitted. "Men are usually at the docks, or the foundries, or the mills. The women as well, unless they're tending children in the schola."

"And you lot here?" Eva added. "I suppose it's now 'we lot here'."

"Well, today's the first day of the week," Sierra supplied, "so it'll be quiet today, but tonight will probably be rowdy."

"Rowdier than usual?" Eva returned.

"First night of the week, fifth night of the week, and the ninth and tenth nights are always busiest, especially the last" Sierra replied.

"And… how many days in a week?" Eva queried, suddenly hoping Sierra would not question it too closely.

"Ten days," Sierra replied, though she cocked her head slightly. "How many days on your planet?"

"Seven," Eva replied, relieved that Sierra obviously had no more than a passing interest in her home-planet's cycle. "And… how many days to the month? And the year?"

"You're really an off-worlder, aren't you?" Sierra murmured. "Well, I supposed it's to be expected. Right. We use a solar year to reck time; it's pretty simple, though it gets a bit dull. Three hundred days to the year, so we divided by ten and got thirty days to the month. Divide by three next, and we got ten days to the week, three weeks to the month. It's a nice round number, no? Each year a ten-month, each month a thirty-day, each week a ten-day. I heard Old Earth had all kinds of strange months…"

"Yes, I… heard that too…" Eva trailed off. "Though our home-world is… a bit like Old Earth in regard to the time-cycle. A happy coincidence, I'm sure."

"Well, we have something Old Earth doesn't," Sierra replied, a faint smile on her face.

"Oh? And…?"

"We have another moon," Sierra giggled.

"Ah… ha…" Eva forced a tiny laugh; Sierra didn't notice.

"That's right; Olbos and Dimeris. They're two tiny things, and their orbits are irregular and opposite each other, so we don't reckon them very much, except on the odd occasion they cross."

"And what happens when they do?"

"Oh, it's spectacular." Sierra lapsed back, content. "They start to converge about a week ahead, and they grow ever brighter by the night. The day before they cross, they are so bright you can see them during the day. Then, on the day they cross, Dimeris slides across Olbos's face, and Dimeris lights up with a halo from Olbos's light. We explode huge fireworks right as they pass; it's brilliant… hahaha! It really is! Though it only happens once every ten years," she added.

"I see…" Eva pondered. "And when was the last time it happened?"

"That was… nine years ago," Sierra counted quickly on her fingers. "I was nine at the time."

"So… In less than a year it will happen again."

"Will you stay that long?" Sierra asked. She had a pleading look in her eye.

"Uh, I suppose," Eva started. "Why—?"

"I understand," Chachamaru cut in, the first she had spoken in long minutes. "You are lonely, are you not?"

Sierra nodded. "I've… I've never had many friends, and since I took this job three years ago, it's been hard… You seem like good people, so I'd like to be your friend."

Eva was taken aback; the words, though free of malice, stung her. A faint unease rippled through her subconscious. _Why do I get the feeling we were not "nice people"…?_

"…so today is market day?" Eva broke free of her reverie as Sierra answered Chachamaru's question.

"Yes. George sends the girls out to buy hops and barley for his beers, and to buy food for us and the patrons: salted things, mostly, that he keeps in the cold-room, the cellar. I imagine he might send you with Arienny, since she's the eldest and knows the most about the town."

"I imagine we should wash, then, and get ready to go about town." Eva plucked gingerly at her shift.

"Well, the water won't be heated yet..." Sierra looked from Eva to Chachamaru. "I don't suppose, if you aren't going back to sleep… Maybe you could tell me a little more about yourselves?"

Eva glanced at Chachamaru, who nodded slightly. "I suppose. Why not?" She grinned. "At least it's worth having… a friend to talk to."

* * *

Eva groaned slightly. She had two large bags of food in hand and a sack of barley strapped around her back, from which two hooks on strings held part of the weight of the food in her hands. On her left and right, Chachamaru and Arienny were in much the same state, though neither appeared quite as weighed down as Eva was. Indeed, Arienny was striding ahead quite stoically, though Eva suspected she had slowed slightly to allow her companions to keep up.

"You look used to this," Eva breathed.

"I do it daily," Arienny replied. Eva shook her head.

"Where do you keep all of your strength?" Eva wondered, shaking her head in gentle mockery. "I mean, you're so tall and thin…"

Arienny smiled. She was, indeed, quite tall; just over 185cm, a short-haired brunette with wispy bangs, green-flecked brown eyes, and a medium complexion. "Well, I thank whatever graceful build my parents had for my height. And my strength. I've done this route daily for six years, though, so I've had time to adapt." She laughed: a high, tinkling sound. "Though you and Katherine are both quite tall as well," she observed.

Eva nodded in agreement, looking sideways at Chachamaru. "I never thought I would reach this height," she drawled, recalling her days trapped in the body of a ten-year-old. _Damn, but perhaps Nagi was more a lolicon than I ever thought_. Beside her, Chachamaru shook her head, discerning a portion of her mistress's thoughts.

"Well, I suppose I'm quite tall, but I'm also one of the oldest at the Blue Tap," Arienny mused. "Only Cleo and Veronica are any older, and Cleo's even taller than I am! I suppose that's why she's a dancer; all legs, that one."

"Oh, aye?" Eva puffed, growing short of breath from talking while walking under the load of food. She stopped short of a cross-street, trying to catch her breath.

Gazing to her right, she noticed a tall, long building. It looked as though it was built in an older style than the rest of the town, and very solemn.

"Arienny, what is that building there?" Eva asked.

Arienny peered down the street. "That? That is the Hall of Records. It maintains accounts of all things that happen within the region. This city is the capital of Purdue, so…"

"So it is quite important," Chachamaru murmured, the first time she had spoken in some time. "It sounds to be part city hall, part archives…"

"I hear if you have good reason—and enough money to pay the fee—you may do research there as well," Arienny added. "I've heard a few people say they have very good data machines." She looked a bit wistful as she said this.

"You are not literate?" Evangeline asked softly. Arienny turned and shook her head.

"Well, no more or less than the average person, I guess, but I won't be writing any epic stories." She hitched up her bags. "Are you ready to carry on? The Blue Tap is still six blocks away."

Eva mock-groaned as they resumed their walk. "Arienny," she asked as they got up to speed, "since Katherine and I emigrated here from another planet… we would have to register at the Hall of Record, would we not?"

Arienny gave Eva a sidelong, scrutinizing look. "How did you avoid doing so in the first place?"

"Well," Eva replied lightly, "we did arrive here using… questionable means."

Arienny shook her head. "Far be it from me to criticize… Though you should register, if only to gain access to basic city services. And avoid imprisonment." She gazed ahead a moment. "I will ask George if he will sponsor you. Surely your assistance yesterday will make him well-disposed to help you, and that in turn should help sway the city officials."

"I thank you," Eva responded softly. Arienny caught something in Eva's tone.

"And we thank you for helping Sierra," she replied, just as softly. "Sierra is young, and perhaps naïve, but she is hard-working and honest. Perhaps she is not the best material to be a barmaid, but George and I and the rest of the girls look out for her. It was the same for me when Veronica and I first joined; Cleo helped us because she was still new—if not quite fresh—and the other women taught us what it was like in the bar. It's important… to have friends."

Recalling their conversation with Sierra, Eva and Chachamaru both nodded. "Aye," Eva whispered. "Friends…"

* * *

"We have returned, O Master," Eva announced in her same old mocking drawl as she and her companions re-entered the Blue Tap. However, the grateful smile she gave George—who was waiting with three cool glasses of water—took all of the sting out of her words.

"I'm glad, my beauty," he drawled back. "I feared your defection to a far more glamorous patronage than myself."

"Are you worried about your patronage?" Arienny inquired, mock-serious, looking around herself as if for the first time and raising a hand to her lips in astonishment. "Well, I suppose it's only a small, decently-lit, low-rate, generally friendly place…"

"Indeed," Eva added, "I've never seen a nicer hole-in-the-wall."

"Well," muttered George, a hint of truculence in his voice, "I'm sorry it's just a hole…"

Eva, her face falling slightly as she read the misunderstanding in George's voice, deposited her baggage gently and moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "George," she said softly, "everyone, no matter how high or how low they are, needs even a small bolthole sometimes: somewhere they can flee… friends on whom they can depend."

She squeezed his shoulder slightly; his lips plucked up in a tiny smile as he wordlessly handed her a glass. She took it, made a tiny bow of gratitude, and promptly downed the contents. Arienny gaped in shock, as did Chachamaru.

"Bleh!" Eva gasped. "I'm sorry, but Arienny, I trust it does not get much hotter around here?"

"This is… normal for this time of year," Arienny murmured, accepting a glass from George and sipping in a much more ladylike manner. "It is usually warmer in the city than on the plains, but this is… well…"

"The buildings trap the heat and humidity; the enclosed nature of the streets does not allow the heat to dissipate easily," Chachamaru pointed out, sitting down. "That, combined with the feeling of closeness from the walls on all sides, makes it feel warmer than it is."

"Hmm, something like that," Arienny acknowledged thoughtfully as she and the others sat as well. "I know Annette comes from the edge of the city, closer to the plains, and she often complained of it being uncomfortably warm. Though we do get the occasional fierce wind howling down the alleys if it's blowing just right."

George leaned in, face serious as he regarded Eva and Chachamaru. "I only hope you might…" He trailed off, unsure. "I hope you might… stay long enough to… get used to the weather."

He blushed as he said it, peering down, aware of how banal it sounded. Eva was taken aback. "You… you really mean it?" she asked. "You really want us to stay?"

"Sierra… speaks well of you," George muttered. "She looks up to you. I think… she would be sad if you left now, after what you've done for us so far. I think you two will be good for her… and for us." He looked up, nearly pleading. "Please stay."

Arienny nodded fiercely in agreement. Eva looked sidelong at Chachamaru, who nodded faintly, a tiny smile of approval on her lips.

"Heh," Eva snorted. "George, I don't know how they do it around here, but where I come from, decisions like this… require _BOOZE!_"

"Bwah?" Chachamaru exclaimed. "Miss—Athanasia, it's too early for that—!"

"Don't be daft, Kitty," Eva replied, a mischievous grin splitting her lips. "It's _celebratory_; we need a drink!"

"Ach, just a drop I suppose," George conceded. He rose and ducked behind the bar, pulling out a large stoppered vessel. "A little bit of cider, just for taste, mind you."

He drew out the cork with a _thoomp!_ and poured new glasses for all of them. He distributed them and offered a toast. "To Athanasia and Katherine. For what you've done, you are friends. For what we may do for each other, you're family."

"Kampai!" Eva shouted heartily. Earning a quizzical look from Arienny and George, she added, "to your health!"

They drank, laughing easily, as though they had known each other for years.

"Well," George said at length, collecting the glasses, "ladies, you might be family now, but you'd best get to work. We've much to do before the doors open tonight."

"Aw, no rest for the weary," Eva chuckled.

George grinned. "Well, I hope you look forward to tonight. You'll be starting officially, and, well… try to enjoy it, all right?"

* * *

That night, before opening for business, George officially introduced Athanasia (Eva) and Katherine (Chachamaru) to the other girls at the Blue Tap. The servers—Arienny, Annette, and Mathilda—had already met Athanasia and Katherine the night before during the commotion, and they all officially thanked the newcomers for helping Sierra, who leaned on Chachamaru's arm during the introductions. The dancers—Cleo, Sandra, and Veronica—met the newcomers for the first time, and were genial in their welcome. Cleo and Sandra were set to dance that night; Veronica volunteered to watch Sierra during business hours in case she needed anything.

As the serving girls bustled about, readying the place to welcome its usual clientele, Chachamaru helped Sierra back upstairs, trailed by the dancers, the latter of whom went to their chambers to get ready for their performances. Evangeline stood by the bar, surveying the girls' work for a moment, before turning to George.

"I know Katherine and I are to start tonight, but we have not really discussed our roles in full yet, have we?"

George paused in his work, setting a tray of glasses on the counter and wiping his hands thoughtfully on a rag from his waist.

"True, Anthy," he replied, his mouth quirking as Evangeline's eyebrows rose in response to the nickname. "But you needn't worry about it. Like it or not, the regulars all know you by sight now, and they'll tell any who missed the fun: beware the sharp-tongued—not to mention sharp-toothed—beauty of a blonde at the Blue Tap!" He danced back a pace as Evangeline took a mock swipe at him.

"Take care, Master George, or I might throw you out on your arse as well," she growled playfully.

"Aye, aye," George replied with all due innocence. "Well, to be serious, you watch the door; any lad who looks too young to be here probably is. If they have any trouble with you, I'll come right quick to sort it out. Tonight, you just watch the crowd and watch the girls; you'll get to know how it's done here soon enough. Katy will help me behind the bar, and she can watch as well."

Eva nodded and took a step towards the recessed door, but George halted her with his words. "One thing more," he grinned, "after a while, go back up to your room. I have a gift for you… I'm sure you'll know what to do."

Eva's eyebrow arched even higher at that, but made no comment. She turned to see Chachamaru hurrying down the stairs and heard a babble of voices outside. Grinning at the effect she was sure to have, she bounded to the top of the stone steps and swung the door open. The front members of the crowd outside—Eva recognized a few faces from the night before—went suddenly silent, their shock at her appearance communicating itself rapidly back through the ranks.

"Welcome to the Blue Tap," she drawled, "now under new management." She bared her fangs in a fierce grin. "Mine."

* * *

Evangeline had welcomed the bar's patrons with a wicked grin at the door and ushered them inside. She directed them, politely but firmly, to show their identification as they passed. She stopped a few, those who appeared too young or too shifty, or whose papers looked a bit dodgy, but she did not feel the need to bar any who wished to enter; whatever their age, temperament, or reason for coming, they all needed their bolthole, and Eva respected that. She believed George's trust in her was well-founded, and thus trusted her own judgement to be beyond reproof.

The only time she seriously considered holding someone back was when a nervous young man, surrounded by a group of a half-dozen friends a few years older than him, tried to enter. She considered his ID, then his face, thoughtfully, before sending him a lascivious wink, earning hoots from his companions.

"Comin' o' age!" his friends cheered, slapping him on the back, and Eva chuckled. She would watch them to make sure they didn't get into trouble, but otherwise hoped they would enjoy themselves.

Once the crowd had been settled at the tables and the bar, George announced (to the general delight of the patrons) that tonight was the usual Dancing Girls Night, and that Cleo and Sandra would perform. He also slyly suggested that there might be additional entertainment, to which the men responded with loud appreciative whistles.

He also introduced Athanasia (Evangeline's lips split into yet another wickedly fanged grin) and Katherine (Chachamaru bowed low from behind the bar, a hand-cloth slung casually over her shoulder), and the men voiced their appreciation for the two women's defence of Sierra the night before. It was then that Evangeline noticed the total absence of the molesters from the night before. She breathed a silent prayer of gratitude (to whichever deity it was she prayed) for the lack of their presence that evening; it looked that things might turn out well after all.

She was kept reasonably busy, bustling around to greet the patrons at George's insistence, hoping she would ingratiate herself with the clientele. For the most part, she got along well with them, inquiring about them and their work courteously, and they responding in kind. She would move occasionally to greet new arrivals at the stairs, leading them to their seats or allowing the other servers to direct them. Most men seemed to have a preferred location or else had friends saving seats, so they were happy to find their own way.

Throughout, she talked, she bantered, she chuckled at their jokes. The men were civil, though Evangeline sensed a certain… reticence from them. Maybe they feared her; maybe they were distrustful of strangers. Maybe they were in awe of her. She resolved to earn their trust, slowly and carefully, and to give them no cause to think of her with anything but goodwill, of which they were showing a portion already.

She caught sight of Chachamaru behind the bar, working hard with George to mix drinks and with the other girls to deliver them. She was happy; Chachamaru appeared to be as quick on her feet as ever, despite lacking the gyro-stabilizers and lightning-fast processing speed of her former robotic self. She paused, suffering a slight shudder at the thought. So much had changed, and yet she resolved to make it for the better. Soon, she and Chachamaru would register in this city as Athanasia and Katherine, and then they would belong…

* * *

Evangeline snapped out of her reverie as the men hooted, clapped, and whistled. She looked toward the stage at the far end of the bar. Cleo had stepped up with the clear intention of performing, and if her _dress_ was anything to judge by, it would be quite a show.

Cleo had clearly been born a dancer. Eva estimated her height at 195cm and, like Arienny said, she was all legs. A voluptuous, long-haired redhead with sparkling green eyes and slightly darker skin, she exuded the most sexual feminine air. It was hard, Eva thought sardonically, not to be enthralled by her. Eva herself found Cleo quite attractive!

She was clad head to toe in crimson silk. Her top covered the bare minimum of her shoulders and dove in a sharp V between her breasts, exposing her chest (but only slightly). It came together at her neck, covering a modest portion. Tiny gold chains decorated her top, matching with a square gold belt and small gold earrings. A puffy, ruffled dress swirled around her ankles, and she wore short red gloves and two-inch heels. The edges of her top and dress were trimmed in canary yellow, and Evangeline saw her top was open-backed, exposing her skin when she moved. She also wore a wide diaphanous scarf, like the thinnest tissue paper flung around her shoulders to trail behind her as she walked.

There was a chair set up in the middle of the stage, and Cleo took it like a queen took her throne. She smiled down at the men, who whooped and encouraged her to begin. She looked sidelong and winked; Eva noticed a small group of men, clustered at the end of the bar near the stage, with instruments in hand: a horn, a drum, a violin, and a tambourine. The horn player and drummer immediately began a brassy moderato jazz-style number, and Cleo began to sing.

Her number was clearly a popular one, as the men sang along in alternating verses. As Eva listened to the lyrics, she realized it described a "good man", a little down-on-his-luck but faithful to his lady. She also realized the men were happy to sing along, since the man in the song might have described any one of them. Cleo moved in time with the verses: a shake of the hips here, a dainty kick there, a scolding finger or an encouraging wink in time to the highs and lows of the man's life and fortune.

Eva felt honoured to have witnessed this show, if nothing else: she saw into the souls of those men reflected in the music and narrated through the eyes of a woman. Then, more than ever, Eva vowed to earn the trust of those good people.

Cleo danced for several minutes, her exuberance for the tune only outdone by the men singing along with her. When she was finished, the men leaped to their feet and gave her a standing ovation, whistling and hooting. Cleo bowed graciously but impishly, subtly cupping her breasts to give the men a little extra "service."

"Anthy!" called Arienny, slipping between the tables to reach Eva's side, "George wants you to head upstairs. Said it's 'time.'"

"Oh, aye?" Eva replied. "Well, if it's time, it's time. Whatever for, I wonder."

"I can guess," Arienny replied with a faint smile. Eva's eyebrow ticked up yet again, wondering what could be in store.

"Oh, you ought be right quick, I think," Arienny added, "George don't like lollygagging much."

"Right," Eva replied. She turned and bustled up to the stairs as Sandra made her way down the bar. She winked at Eva, who nodded and watched a moment.

Sandra climbed the stage to general applause. The men weren't nearly as raucous for her as for Cleo, but then, Sandra wasn't quite as stacked. She was almost petite when compared to Arienny and Cleo, though Eva quickly revised her opinion. Of course an average-sized girl would seem small compared to those two. Sandra had a very reserved air, almost as though shy but brave enough to stay out of her shell.

She had slightly pale skin and wispy brown hair, and wore two large pear-shaped chrysoprase stones on delicate earrings. She was clothed in an emerald green tube dress, with a circular covering over her shoulders and chest. Her heels were only an inch, and she wore nothing else. Eva realized that while Cleo was a provocateuse, Sandra was demure.

Sandra tipped her head back and began a slow song. As Eva listened, she realized it was about a woman waiting for her man to come back. The woman paced her house day and night, alternating between unbridled optimism and uncontrolled despondency. Eva was almost so caught up in the emotions as to forget her purpose; she quickly shook her head and hurried upstairs to her room.

She was surprised to find Sierra and Veronica waiting for her. Between them on the bed was… "Ah…" Eva murmured. She suddenly understood.

It was a dress, much like the one Cleo was wearing, but of course it had some differences. Eva held it up to study it. It was a medium blue with silver trim, and laces in the back. The bodice covered her up to her neck, though there was a cut just above her chest to show a little skin. The sleeves were long, terminating just at the wrists in dainty lace cuffs, not puffed out but tasteful and understated in ice-blue. Completing the set were a pair of pear-shaped sapphires of the deepest blue, a matching choker with tiny stones the size of a thumbnail, a small white-silver hairnet almost lacy in its thinness, and silver heels.

"I am to dance and sing, then." It wasn't a question.

"That's right," Veronica smiled softly. "It's an initiation of sorts, to see how both you and the patrons react to your first time on stage. Master George thinks you'll do well."

"As… As do I," Sierra added shyly.

Eva breathed deeply and thoughtfully through her nose as she looked the dress up and down. It was beautiful… and obviously a gift. The thought jolted her momentarily. Master George must have sunk a fair amount of money into the making of this dress, as he clearly had with the others. And this for a woman he had known for only a few days… a woman who had saved his girls from harm… a woman with a secret…

_What?_

Eva blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I had best be dressing. I'm sure I don't have much time."

Veronica stepped up and turned Eva so her back faced the bed. Between Veronica and Sierra, they helped Eva out of her work clothes and got the dress on her, adjusting the bodice and laces. When they had finished pulling and tugging, Eva twisted her head and shoulders, eying the dress; she gave a little twirl, and it puffed out.

"Very nice," she grinned. "If this is how George treats his girls, I think I'll stay after all." She laughed a high, tinkling laugh, and both the others joined her.

"Right," she said after a moment, "best be off. Sorry you'll have to miss my first dance, Sierra."

"Perhaps I'll see you dance again some other time," she replied softly, almost shyly. Eva blinked, then smiled gently and excused herself.

* * *

Eva re-entered the bar to anticipatory silence. Everyone watched her descend the stairs, right hand on the banister for support, left hand clutching her dress to keep it from tripping her, stepping slowly, daintily, demurely. As she reached the bottom, she curtseyed to polite applause from the patrons. She swept her gaze around the room; everyone was still, watching her, looks ranging from polite interest to awe. She caught the eye of the young man whose coming-of-age was that evening and blew him a dainty kiss; his fellows chuckled and patted him on the back as he coloured slightly.

Eva glided towards the stage; all eyes followed her. She paused before the musicians, who looked up, waiting. She stared at each in turn and gave a small nod; they bowed slightly in return. Her eyes fixed on the young violinist.

His mouth went slightly agape and his hands as he stared into her eyes. Her eyes shone with a faint light; it entranced him, and somehow, he knew what to play.

"Tempo allegretto malinconico," she whispered. The boy rose, enthralled; he lifted his bow to the strings and began to play. The piece flowed off the young man like the lightest rain. It was infinitely sad, inexpressibly sad. The others—the horn, the drum, the tambourine—joined in quietly, instinctively taking their cue from Eva and the violinist, always supporting, never overpowering.

_Don't believe everything happiness says  
__Nothing feels better than hiding these days  
__We bury our fears in our drinks and these tears  
__For the days we believed we could fly_

_Call up your brothers and sisters and friends  
__We'll go back to the place where the night never ends; we'll  
__Remember the days that we passed in a haze; oh, boy  
__How in the hell'd we get here?_

_So why don't you meet me down along the bar-stools?  
__We'll waste away the weekend with perfect regard for how  
__Cavalier we used to be, that beautiful insanity  
__The apathy surrounding me,  
__Don't close your eyes or we'll fade… away._

_Over and over it's always too much; children  
__Want to be adults, grow up in a rush; now we're  
__Putting out fires and laughing with liars; man,  
__How in the hell'd we get here?_

_So…_

* * *

Chachamaru watched her mistress with conflicting emotions. She saw the sadness in every line of Evangeline's body, in the flow of her movements, yet there was tenderness there, as though she was finally able to release a great, pent-up… _something_, some weight that had borne her down over the centuries.

Eva raised her eyes to the sky, lifting her hands in supplication, begging, pleading, for the innocence of youth to return. And, even though she knew it would not come back, there was still hope for the future.

For a moment, the world around Chachamaru darkened, as though a cloud had passed over her sight; then she realized she was crying. Blinking in astonishment, she wiped her eye with a finger, and it came away moist. She blinked again, stupidly, uncomprehending, and all at once she realized what a fool she felt, and nearly burst out laughing. Drying her eyes on the corner of a clean kerchief, she watched Eva with a proud smile. They were human; they had earned some human happiness and sadness; they had friends who cared for them and work to do. And they had each other, for as long as their days might last.

* * *

_In that moment, Chachamaru and Evangeline caught each other's eye. Their gazes hung for an immeasurable moment, and together, they knew peace at last._

* * *

The echoes of Evangeline's song finally faded from the minds of the Blue Tap's patrons and servers as they filed out in the late evening. Evangeline's song had dissolved into quietness at the last, and as she stood on the stage, the quiet rapture of her audience swelled slowly into discreet but enthusiastic applause. There was no whistling, no cheers or catcalls, but it was as powerful and sustained as it was restrained. Though only a few men stood to clap, every one nodded fiercely in support of Evangeline's brilliant performance.

As for Evangeline, she remained in a state of near-stupor on the stage, the emotions she had released—emotions she hadn't even known, much less analyzed—overwhelming her. She floated back off the stage in a haze, somehow able to politely nod to the musicians as she did so; they too were so enthralled they hardly noticed her state of mind.

Eva somehow managed to make it upstairs, Chachamaru hovering close by as she did. When Eva reached her room, Veronica made way for Chachamaru, taking her place downstairs. Together with Sierra, Chachamaru managed to get Evangeline changed back into something suitable for the remainder of her duties.

Evangeline returned downstairs after regaining her composure to further approbation by the patrons. Eva acknowledged their plaudits with a genteel nod and curtsey, slightly abashed by their support. She assured the hovering Chachamaru in a quiet voice that she was well, and her dependable servant took this statement with evident relief and good-nature, for she did not flutter about Evangeline's shoulder (much) for the remainder of the evening.

Finally, they sent the patrons on their way, Evangeline seeing them off at the door as she had seen them in. To a man, they nodded or doffed their hats politely to her as they went, once more giving their quiet approval. Flushed with happiness, Eva bustled about, helping the others straighten the bar and receiving their praise before retiring to bed.

* * *

_Chachamaru guided Evangeline upstairs, so giddy was she at the evening's events that she appeared drunk on her pleasure. After a short time, Eva's flush of pride receded, and she embraced Chachamaru, the gesture conveying what she could not put into words. Chachamaru returned it wholeheartedly, happy to have finally discovered humanity in herself and her mistress._

* * *

_In the late watches of the night, Eva and Chachamaru lied on their double bed, a great feeling of peace and contentment pulling them into deep slumber._

_However, that peace was not to last. Evangeline would soon find herself hurtled into her destiny, a pawn of incredible forces._

_But for the moment, she slept—her finger wrapped around Chachamaru's—at peace again for one night._

* * *

**Chapter Three: End**

* * *

**Post-word:** I originally meant this chapter to conclude what began last chapter when Eva and Chacha arrived in town. I realized I just couldn't do it all in one chapter, so Eva and Chacha will get a little more time of peace at the Blue Tap before it all goes wrong.

Please look forward to that, and thank you for reading!

"_Rant" about Evangeline's song: _

The original song is "Old School" by Hedley; it is tempo allegro and quite a bit livelier than the version I imagine Evangeline singing. Tempo allegretto malinconico means roughly "tempo slightly fast, quick, and bright, and melancholic".

I also hear her stresses different than Hedley's: both sets of lyrics are decasyllabic; however, where Hedley's follows a "**one**, one-two, **one**, one-two" stress, Eva's is "**one**, two, three, **one**, two, three", in keeping with her slower, more solemn/melancholic style.


	4. Flying, After the Crash

**Author's Note:**

…Oh, hello! Yes, it's me again, _this_ time with Chapter Four of Dark Evangel.

I thank you all very much for your patience. Whenever I see another reader sign up for Story Alerts, I feel so happy you want more story, but so bad I haven't given you any! Please be patient with me. I am resigned to this taking a while, but stick around and I'll do my best to make it worth your while. Thank you for the reviews and comments; I'll keep D.E. coming best I can, and I'll respond to comments when I can.

**Warning:** Something bad happens in this chapter; however, it sets the stage for Evangeline to begin her long walk to destiny.

I asked you, my fans, to vote in my Pre-Chapter Four Poll and say what you thought might happen out of the choices, as well as give me your own quirky ideas. Special mention to Lunatic Pandora 1, who's personal suggestion had me in stitches. (Involving Eva, the Emperor, and some Orks.)

I'm sorry for the exceptionally long author's note.

Chapter Four is up. The poll is closed.

All I have to say, my pollsters:

_You were right_.

* * *

**Dark Evangel**

* * *

**Chapter Four—Flying, After the Crash**

* * *

_Little doll… broken down…_

_Pieces falling on the ground…_

_Little doll… fade away…_

_No more time to play today…_

* * *

Athanasia and Katherine worked diligently at the _Blue Tap_ for a couple of weeks during early autumn while one Phep Folio—an infrequent customer of and casual friend to George—prepared a case to present before the Office of the Magistrate for Purdue and the Office of the High Magistrate for Region 122 under the auspices of the law firm _Fulkin and Brice_.

During early autumn, Phep interviewed George and the ladies of the _Blue Tap_, getting a picture of the newcomers. Despite what one might think about bar owners or dancing girls, the _Blue Tap_ and its entertainers were well-respected, their character impeccable and unchallenged; Phep assured George privately that this—the favour of good citizens—would go some way towards convincing the Magistrate of Athanasia and Katherine's viability as citizens themselves.

Each of the witnesses told Phep as much as they knew of the circumstances of the sisters' arrival: how they had come in penniless, how Sierra had been set upon by some nitwits, how the girls had driven the men off, and how they offered to stay on in Sierra's place in exchange for half-pay and a place to stay. He also mentioned with pride how they had meshed well with the servers and clientele, and how they were a draw with the men: the "new girls," a nice novelty.

After meeting with each of the girls at _Blue Tap_ individually over the course of about a week, Phep set aside one morning to interview both Athanasia and Katherine in person.

Phep asked to speak privately with George at first, so Eva and Chachamaru retreated to their room. When they were gone, Arienny provided a pint of ale for each of them and remained behind the bar; Phep glanced between her and George, who nodded slightly. Phep shrugged and sipped his drink.

"Thank you, George. I will speak with Katherine now, and Athanasia later. Athanasia is the elder, yes?"

George nodded a confirmation. "Good," continued Phep quietly. "Please take Arienny up with you; have Arienny ask Katherine to come down, and she will take you to chambers separate from Athanasia's." Phep smiled. "You understand this is to verify your stories independently, of course." George nodded again. "Excellent. I will call for Arienny when I finish with Katherine, and she will escort the women to and fro. Once I have spoken with each of the women in turn, I will call for you all together."

George stood and, accompanied by Arienny—who lingered only to top up Phep's ale and serve some cider for the women—headed up the stairs. A few moments later, Chachamaru came down, barefoot and wearing a plain white shift. Phep bade her sit and studied her for a moment, his eyes widening from their customary squint to study her frankly but without malice. Chachamaru returned his gaze calmly and without rancour, her hands folded demurely in her lap. He nodded softly, as if pleased, his eyes fluttering half-closed again before confirming her biographical information: name, height and weight, hair, eye, and skin colour.

When he asked for her date of birth, her lips formed a moue and she gave a slight shake her head. He cocked his head slightly, a look of mild curiosity in his eyes, and she explained that, between a lack of records and coming clandestinely aboard a ship, she had forgotten her exact birth-date, never mind how to convert it to the local standard. However, she estimated herself as early thirties, and Phep marked this down without comment.

He then asked her to begin from her earliest memory of the city. She began honestly, sipping thoughtfully at her cider as she did: she and Athanasia had awakened in a darkened building with no knowledge of what had happened before. They made their way through the unfamiliar city to the _Blue Tap_, where they had their run-in with a set of thugs, saving Sierra's life in the process. Athanasia had negotiated with George to let them stay in exchange for helping make up for the loss of one of his staff. He had later suggested registration in order to avoid some of the more complex legal problems, despite the obvious short-term risk of being tried as spies.

Phep agreed that was a reasonable course of action: lacking registration, one could not legally access welfare services within the city… or anywhere, for that matter. And though they rarely had trouble, the city police were well within their rights to demand identification; lacking it…

Phep moved on: What was Athanasia's relationship to the servers at the Blue Tap? Chachamaru replied that she was cordial with the women; as a newcomer, it behooved her to listen, watch, and do as she was told. However, her face softened when she mentioned Sierra, whom she had befriended easily. Phep looked interested at this; Chachamaru explained that, in addition to work at the bar, she was the one who minded Sierra, as the other women often had other tasks to which they tended during the day.

Phep asked if she had suffered the attention of the local magistrate's office; Chachamaru replied that she had not. Every time she had gone out, she had been with Arienny, they had kept to the main thoroughfares, and they had performed only mundane errands. As Arienny was widely-known as the most dependable of George's women, no one had given them undue attention, though the regular customers and local citizenry obviously noticed the two new tall beauties resident at the Blue Tap.

Phep concluded by asking why Katherine and her sister Athanasia had risked so much in leaving their home world. Chachamaru explained in general terms that they had fled persecution, having attracted the ire of a ruthless enemy who was covetous of the sisters' good looks and reputation; they departed the world—secretly, in poverty, and at risk for their lives—rather than allowing him to continue to threaten them and their family. Phep did not press her, as he saw she felt strongly about the ordeal.

Phep spoke with Chachamaru for a short while thereafter, exchanging trivial talk, before thanking her and calling for Arienny, who escorted Chachamaru upstairs, returning with Evangeline a few moments later. As Evangeline sat, Arienny served her cider before retreating behind the bar.

Phep's gaze lingered on Arienny, who was fussing at the sink, clearly wanting to stay. She had the grace to blush faintly as she noticed him watching, before she tiptoed away up the stairs.

Evangeline followed his gaze and smirked slightly as she watched Arienny slink away. "I think she's a bit interested in how this will go, don't you think?"

Phep nodded, unfazed by her speaking out of turn. As he had done to "Katherine," now he studied "Athanasia" directly. She returned his gaze just as unblinkingly. Phep noted her eyes, though bright blue unlike his own, were ever-so-slightly lidded, some internal firmness lending her stare certain gravity, a spark of something else slowly shimmering in its depths. She was relaxed but aware, hands folded beneath her chest. She wore a plain but lovely lilac shift and dainty black shoes. Whereas Katherine's hair had been straight-combed, Athanasia's had a subtle waviness, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Phep noted the contrast, and something instinctively told him to be even more polite-but-firm than he ever had been.

Phep commenced as he had before, confirming biographical information. Evangeline's answers were short but not terse, only what he had asked for. When he reached her date of birth, she replied—with only a small smile the barest indicator of sardonicism—that, having come in a ship with no records, she had quite forgotten. However, knowing her age compared to her "sister's", she was reasonably sure she was in her mid-thirties by the old standard. Phep noted this without comment.

He asked of her as well to discuss her first memories of the city, and Evangeline told the story much as Chachamaru had done. However, Phep noted more confusion and sadness in Athanasia's story than he had in Katherine's. He put it down to filial duty towards her sister; being the elder, naturally Athanasia would feel responsible for her younger sister's welfare.

He inquired at length about the persecution Athanasia and Katherine had fled, mentioning how he had refrained from pushing Katherine into revealing all details. Eva's face softened fractionally at that, glad Phep was taking a decent line on the problem.

She explained that a wealthy man, somewhat older than the sisters, had come across them somehow and was smitten with their looks and character. He desired to make them part of his household; whether as servants, mistresses, or otherwise, they knew not. They had refused, and he had grown angry. He harassed their family and friends, disrupting their father's business and frightening their mother and their aunts.

Finally, the sisters decided to end their family's misery. They sold the small portion of their father's estate that was theirs to take, bought passage clandestinely aboard a long-haul merchant ship, and entertained the crew during the long voyage. During the several years aboard, the sisters had never asked or known the ship's name, nor that of any of the crew, and the crew had done likewise with them.

At length, Phep was satisfied with Evangeline's testimony. He bade her go to her sister and to George, and then return with them.

* * *

"What can I say?" Phep's voice crackled.

Phep, Evangeline, Chachamaru, and George were seated around a corner table of the bar, far from the stage. They were sharing a pitcher of cider together as Phep reviewed his notes.

"This is certainly something quite remarkable," Phep continued, whetting his lips with a sip. "Rumours swirl of the ever-increasing dangers of space travel, great dangers… though I would not repeat such things without proof; it undermines one's credibility!"

He rasped out a wheezing laugh that sent a jolt down Evangeline's spine. Some formless dread shot through her, darkening her vision. _By the empty night_, she thought, _I'm glad we _didn't_ come here that way! Something in the way he speaks… the thought chills my bones. Though that raises the question again of how we _did _get here—_

"—sister?"

"Oh!" Eva's head snapped up; she had been looking at the floor, gripping her shift tightly. She looked to her left, where Chachamaru was looking on in concern. "I apologize, Kattie. That story…" She forced a brief laugh. "What a thing to say!"

George looked down into his ale-cup, saying nothing; he had noticed a bead of sweat on her brow, and was afraid to look askance at her. _I don't wonder what they've been through, what they've seen…_ He looked up again after mastering himself. "Can you do it, Phep?"

"Oh, certainly!" Phep rasped, waving a hand negligently. "I don't see much trouble. I'll simply collate your testimony regarding your first meeting. Purely to head off the Magistrate; you didn't involve the police, so I don't want to blindside them when it comes up in the application."

Phep took a long, noisy suck at his ale. "It's a pity you don't have any records, but as you're applying for refugee status, I'm hoping to fast-track you under recognizance and put off any bureaucratic wrangling."

"You're a bureaucrat," Chachamaru pointed out.

"Keh, kheh, kheh… I know. That's why I can do it!" Phep drained the last of his cider and stood abruptly. "I'd best be off; I've much to do before the sun goes down. George, your ale is as fine as ever."

George stood, as did Eva and Chachamaru, and George shook Phep's hand and saw him cordially to the door.

"I'm glad you trust him, George," Eva remarked once Phep had left.

George nodded. "I've known Phep for a few years. He seems a good sort, and he's reliable and responsible, otherwise he'd not have been promoted."

"How long do you suppose the case will take?" Chachamaru asked as they began wiping down the tables in preparation for the evening crowd.

George shrugged. "Best to not ask, I think. I'm sure Phep will work diligently, since he took the work pro bono, but he serves at the permission of his masters, so best to not press the issue."

"Happily, we are well-served by staying here," Eva pointed out. "We have clothes, lodging, and food; our location is known to an authority; and we are under recognizance by trusted citizens. We have no reason to flee, nor for subterfuge, save in keeping to ourselves until our case is heard."

"Aye," George mumbled, "and I'll be happy when it's over. I don't want my pub room dragged into the public light much more than it must."

"Your pub appears well-run, with few incidents," Chachamaru observed. "Surely you are proud of it? Everyone else is."

"Of course I'm proud of my pub," George replied, "but things to happen occasionally that aren't, shall we say, beyond reproach? I like dealing with such incidents myself, and usually I can, so I don't like to involve the Magistrate's Office. That kind of attention tends to sour feelings all around."

"Well, we'll keep out of trouble until our case comes up," Eva promised.

George smiled. "That's a good lass. Now, let's check the stockroom…"

* * *

Phep brought their case to review in the second week of Winter, just under eight weeks from his initial review; a record for his office, and one for which he was duly congratulated. The Vice-Regent of Region 122, as Grand Magistrate Regional, headed the case on the advice of the Magistrate of Purdue and the Purdue Council.

Phep consistently reiterated the sisters' story: their flight—in poverty—from their home-world and family due to persecution and to protect their loved ones; their upstanding nature in protecting a stranger; their willingness to provide their services to redress wrongs caused by others.

The matter of their family, and the ship on which they arrived, caused much grief for Phep's case; the Magistrate was difficult to satisfy in the absence of records of the ship or to verify the sisters' identities. Phep and George pleaded long for the Magistrate to exclude the necessity of such information; the sisters had concealed their identities and had not accepted the names of the crew or the ship, so that such information—if it ever got back to their home—could not be used to find them.

The Magistrate also wished to know the name of the sisters' world, so that inquiries might be made in due course; Phep replied, with a hint of scorn, that they might not even know the world's name, having never been educated of the universe beyond their own skies.

The Magistrate hemmed and hawed over the testimony, said he'd review it as a matter of course, and adjourned the proceedings. The waiting began…

* * *

It was a dull day in late mid-winter, the last working day of the week. Evangeline was mending her dress while Chachamaru washed up behind the bar. They were expecting a large crowd that night, partly because the men would be rowdy at the end of the workweek, and partly because—it was rumoured—the girls' case would be decided any day now. Nobody wanted to miss that; in the few months they'd been at the Blue Tap, Evangeline and Chachamaru (aliases Athanasia and Katherine) had become as firmly part of the close-knit pub as anyone else.

However, one wouldn't know it from Eva or Chachamaru's attitudes. Evangeline's gaze had been fixed on her blue dress for an hour, whereas Chachamaru worked slowly and deliberately, wiping glasses one at a time, placing them aside, all while gazing into the middle distance, eyes slightly glassy.

Eva _humphed_ and hung her dress from her fingertips, eyeing it. "Should do it," she murmured. "Chacha! Come an' look here."

Chachamaru set down the plate she was washing with the same deliberate slowness as before and ambled over. She reached forward to take the dress—

"Ah!" she gasped, snatching her left hand away. A tiny drop of blood welled from her index finger; she gazed at it narrowly.

"Oh, damn," Eva muttered. Pinched between her finger and thumb, and hidden from sight by a fold of cloth, was the small needle she'd been using. "I apologize, Chachamaru, for my clumsiness."

Chachamaru did not reply. Her gaze was now fixed on her finger, reproachful (as expected) and yet unfocussed, as though not seeing.

"…Chachamaru?" Eva prompted.

Chachamaru blinked, slowly. "Mistress… I am disturbed."

Eva blinked as well, several times. "…What."

"Something disturbs my peace of mind… I do not know what it could be."

Eva folded her dress neatly, her face radiating perplexity while she thought. "Chachamaru, what exactly is bothering you?"

"Mistress… I fear my humanity will not last."

_Eh?_ "Really? Why?"

Chachamaru did not lift her head, but continued in a monotone. "I feel like, as a being of technology and magic, my place is not with humanity. Indeed, I live only to serve your needs. But now, I have others whom I must serve, and not you. It confuses me, my clear lack of purpose, and I think the only way in which I can remove my dissonance is by withdrawing myself from humanity, or perhaps denying it myself…"

As Chachamaru reeled off her existential crisis in a flat voice, Eva's eyes gradually widened. Eva had never considered what sudden humanity might do to Chachamaru. Certainly, Chachamaru had become more human at… Mahora…

Eva shook the thought aside. _Done with that_. Chachamaru had some experience with humanity, but she was not—had not been—_human_. Now, whether from some relic of her programmed logic or through the evolution of her mind, she was worrying that she was not human.

Eva glanced down and noticed blood continued to well from the tiny pinprick on Chachamaru's finger. Eva strode behind the bar; the sudden movement startled Chachamaru, who watched as Eva took out a small, clean white cloth and cut it in two before she returned and wrapped it neatly around the bloody finger, tying it firmly.

"Chachamaru," Eva said softly, "I think it is humanity's curse to never feel like they belong. I think also that only in rising to strength over the weak can humanity feel like they have somehow reached their potential. Indeed, for a long while I thought myself superior to everyone… even you. Everyone around me was a tool to be used to further my own power, to be wielded by a blackheart like me.

"No longer. I renounce the path of darkness now. We fled the deep darkness, and floated among the deep darkness, and now we know light. Chachamaru, you no longer serve me; that service is past. I release you from your bond, real or imagined; from now on, you are my sister."

Chachamaru's eyes glimmered, and she wiped small tears from the corners of her eyes. "Mistress—Sister, I am overjoyed. But still, this feeling…"

Eva gave Chachamaru a hug. "I don't know why you feel this way, but it might be because the Magistrate's decision on our status is coming up soon. Maybe you think, if they reject us, we are nothing. But do not fear, dear sister; we shall endure despite the worst they can do. This I promise you."

Chachamaru then wept with joy, and embraced Evangeline tightly; sisters, in truth, for the first time.

* * *

A thudding knock at the door broke the sisters' embrace, and they quickly made themselves presentable. Evangeline strode the steps to the street level with easy grace, throwing the latch on the looking-hole before unlocking the door-bolt and tugging it open.

Arienny stood in the chill air, swaddled in a grey fur coat, with a matching scarf around her neck and mouth. She clutched a letter tightly in her hands.

Evangeline's heart skipped a beat on seeing it, for it bore the arms of Purdue and Region 122, which could only mean…

"…So, the Vice-Regent's decision has come at last," Eva murmured, stepping down to allow Arienny inside.

Arienny tucked the letter briefly in her pocket and rubbed her hands, dispelling the cold. "Aye, so it has," came her muffled reply. She pulled the scarf below her chin. "Fetch George; he must see this immediately."

"Oi, Georgie!" Evangeline yelled. "C'mere!"

"I will fetch him, Sister." Chachamaru hurried upstairs to the sleeping quarters, whence Eva heard a low murmur of voices float back down the stairs. Their owners followed soon after; George, Chachamaru, and Sierra, who stepped gingerly down. Sierra had improved since the beating she took the night Eva and Chachamaru arrived, but she still had to adjust to walking with a limp.

By common consent, they all sat at one of the tables just before the bar; George waved them all down and busied himself behind the bar, pouring glasses of cider for the lot of them. Only once they were set on the table would he permit himself to sit down.

Arienny, having deposited her coat at another table, lifted the letter in both hands from her lap and placed it facing Evangeline. They all stared at it.

"Athanasia? I believe it's your right to open it." George waved his left hand at it, almost as though to shoo it away.

Evangeline looked up at him, then to Arienny on his right, then to Sierra next to her, and finally to Chachamaru. "…No. I cannot. And besides, it is due to your kindness, George, that we are here."

"Now, look—" George flushed, taking a pull at his cider.

"No buts, dear Georgie." Eva grinned. "It's your fault you let us stay; you get to deliver the news, good or bad." She raised her glass in sardonic salute, though her smile and her eyes sparkled.

George permitted a grin himself. He slid a small multi-tool from his belt and took up the letter, slitting it along its length. He separated the sides and slid out three papers folded in thirds.

He took the first in the series, folding the other two back on themselves. His eyes skimmed the Magistrate's credentials at the top and the case code, flicking over the information contained therein, before settling at the bottom.

He paused, blinked, and skimmed the first paragraph again, slowly, before a huge grin appeared on his face. The others all hissed in breaths, their eyes and smiles widening involuntarily in something approaching awe.

" 'By the office of the Magistrate of Purdue do we, the Purdue Council, grant the right of citizenship to Athanasia Katelina MaDouwel and Katherine Karina MaDouwel, to remain, abide, and stand as right and proper citizens of our fair State.'"

"YES!" Eva shrieked. She jumped to her feet, her chair falling with a clatter, and threw her arms around George's neck. He laughed uproariously along with her, while Arienny clapped her hands, her clear laugh floating above them all. Sierra and Chachamaru embraced tightly, laughing softly and crying at once.

That night, the _Blue Tap_ threw open its doors to all and sundry, and everyone cheered when George read out the news of the sisters' acceptance. Everyone got uproariously drunk, and the young fellow whose first pub-meet coincided with Eva's first night managed to work up the nerve to ask her on a date. Eva laughed and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, promising she would once all her papers were sorted.

It was the best night many celebrated in a long while…

* * *

Despite the heavy drinking of the night before, Eva and Chachamaru woke at dawn and made their ablutions easily. They dressed in new winter outfits—thick dresses (pale blue for Eva, yellow for Chachamaru) and thick socks, with long, fur-hooded brown overcoats—before heading to the staircase.

"Athanasia? Katherine?"

The women peered over their shoulders; Sierra stood within the doorframe of her room, her sleeping-gown slipping from her shoulders.

"Sierra?" Chachamaru moved to her side, concern etching itself across her face. "Are you in pain?"

Sierra allowed herself to be led back to her bed by Chachamaru, who brushed a hand across Sierra's head. Eva watched from the doorway.

"Yes. I heard you moving about; it took me this long to get up…" Sierra's hand shot to her mouth involuntarily; a small wet noise emanated from her throat and escaped her lips.

"You're quite pale," Eva noted. "You should rest if you are ill."

"Yes…" Chachamaru put a finger beneath Sierra's chin and very gently tilted her head up, peering into her eyes. "You do seem clammy."

"I'm sorry for worrying you… I wanted to see you off…" Sierra's head dropped a fraction.

"We're only going about for a walk." Eva half-drew a paper from her coat's inner pocket. It was one of the three sent by the Magistrate; in addition to the summary of his decision, it included two temporary citizenship papers, valid for thirty days, at the end of which the Magistrate would issue them passports. (Or revoke his decision if they failed the probationary period, which was unlikely.)

"Yes, but… I wanted to wish you well… it's what friends and neighbours do." Sierra managed a wan smile. "And since you're officially citizens now…"

Eva smiled gently. "I see it means much to you." She walked over and took the other girl's hands in her own, lightly. "Good day to you, Sierra. I thank you for your friendship."

Chachamaru placed her hands over Sierra's. "I as well."

Sierra smiled through happy tears. "Good day to you. Stay warm."

* * *

Eva and Chachamaru made their way quickly to the Hall of Records, the city hall and archives for the region. As the capital of 122, Purdue maintained extensive data-banks and paper documents about that which occurred within its domains. All citizens were allowed access to public records (some of which carried a viewing fee), though there were—as with all things—some restrictions.

The other restriction—for Eva and Chachamaru, anyway—was of movement; they were advised in the Magistrate's letter to remain within a few blocks of the _Blue Tap_, unless they headed directly for the Hall of Records or were in the company of their benefactors (mainly, George and Arienny). Their temporary papers were factual and real, but they accepted the high likelihood of scrutiny from any clerk they encountered.

Still, the Hall of Records and the Magistrate's office were linked, so they had little worry of impertinent enquiries from some administrative drone. With luck…

* * *

"I'm glad to see you still have the knack…"

Eva's murmur was nearly swallowed by the Archive's long rows of books, and the gently-humming interface terminals.

"I believe my skills have not entirely deserted me…" Chachamaru's voice was equally low, as she typed quickly but methodically, trying to find hints of the world's deeper past. "However, much of this is restricted; I do not know how much information we can acquire at this level."

"At this level…" Eva wandered down the rows of books, eyes skittering across titles. As they were in the Archives, most of the books were, in some form or another, histories, records, or stories, on stacks that soared up to the ceiling. The ends of some stacks were even within easy reach of the upper mezzanines and balustrades, which contained smaller stacks. She stopped about halfway down the row; glancing back to look at Chachamaru—who was peering closely at her screen—she noticed a slim red volume on the shelf just above and behind her to her right.

She took it down and frowned: The bottom-left corner held the archival designation, as the book's spine was too thin to paste it there. But something was amiss…

"XK-121…" Eva compared it to the biographies nearby. They were mostly in the K section. "Someone must have misplaced this…"

Her breath rushed out in wonder as her eyes came back to the cover. How she'd missed it before she did not know, but on the cover was what appeared to be a gear surrounding a Celtic-knot pattern.

Eva's mouth opened slightly, eyes fixed on the small volume in her hands. She flipped it open in the middle… and gaped.

The book contained what seemed to be plans and diagrams for ordinary clockwork and steam-powered machines, but the _primary_ source of their power…

"Chacha!" Eva hissed. Chachamaru looked back, noting her sister's strained look with puzzlement, and bookmarked the terminal.

"Sister?"

"Look!" Eva nearly shoved the book under Chachamaru's nose. "What the hell does that look like to you?"

Chachamaru blinked. "It reminds me of… me."

"I thought so!" Eva took the book back, flipping backwards, diagrams of more machines flying across the pages. Every time she paused, briefly, she saw each clockwork machine also had a glowing core, which could only be one thing…

"'Any sufficiently advanced machinery…'"

Near the beginning, she found a picture—obviously taken from space—of a huge red planet, behind which—glinting in the distance—appeared to be a small, faintly blue orb…

"Wha…?" Evangeline turned back yet another page. A short, hooded and cowled human looked back at her, twin-tails protruding from beneath its hood.

"It is said the blessed Lords, those of great knowledge, in ages past spread their lore to the far reaches of Man's Cradle, following the words of Zhinshen Tso… What kind of name…? What? 'Zhinshen… Tso…'" Eva looked up, what could only be fear in her eyes. "Chachamaru, does that sound…?"

Chachamaru took the book from Eva's nerveless hands and read on. "'…of Zhinshen Tso, who learned in turn from the one known only as The Teacher…' The Teacher… and Zhinshen Tso?"

Eva let out a long, shaky breath. "By the ancient gods, Chachamaru…" She grabbed her sister by the wrist and led her back to the terminal. "Search those names; find what you can."

Chachamaru reseated herself and opened the terminal again. Eva paced behind her, throwing worried glances around the room. They were mostly alone, but for the rare scholar prowling the upper tiers, and Eva feared what a commotion might precipitate.

"Precious few references, sister; it seems this is some sort of old legend with a local flavour, explaining how Man spread across the stars." Chachamaru looked back at Eva, who had stopped pacing and now had her chin cradled in thought.

"Chachamaru… the names… do you think…?"

"…They sound far too similar to be simple coincidence. Even allowing for the nuance of time and dialect—which, I note now with puzzlement, we can understand, and have since we arrived here—'Zhinshen Tso' must well me 'Lingshen Chao.' And the 'Teacher'… must be 'Hakase'."

Eva exhaled. "Try again. Search 'Lingshen Chao – Magistra Maga.'"

Chachamaru complied, eyes following the letters as they appeared on the screen, before she entered them into the data-bank…

* * *

Chachamaru sat ramrod straight, her hair standing on end, hands rigid in her lap, eyes darting.

"Chachamaru, what—" Eva placed a hand on her sister's shoulder—

_(A dragon of molten steel—)_

_(A planet in flames—)_

_(Dark, armoured shapes with outsized guns—)_

_(A stabbing sword—)_

_(The Eternal Darkness—)_

Eva snatched her hand away, a burning sensation coursing through it, and stared in horror at Chachamaru's body: the exposed skin glittered, lines of what looked like circuitry running across it.

Chachamaru shook herself and peered at her skin, recoiling from the hand she held up to examine.

"Mistress… Sister…" she choked out, turning to Eva with a pleading look in her eyes. "What… is this?"

Eva fought with every ounce of her strength to stop from stepping back even one pace; if she did, she could not guarantee she would not flee from her sister, the dearest person to her in the world. Instead, summoning the deepest reserves of will, she forced herself to shuffle one step towards her sister.

A single step. Eva could have touched Chachamaru with ease, but revulsion fought with love. She stared into the agonized eyes of her beloved, and she sensed again the deep malice she had felt in the brief moment of physical contact—

"Damn," Eva growled. "Damnation and Hell. This is so wrong, it offends me at the deepest level."

"Mistress… I am tainted… I am unfit to serve…" Chachamaru's monotonous exclamation swelled Eva's heart fit to burst with pity and anger. She clattered to the table next to theirs, grabbing their coats, and draped Chachamaru's as comfortably as she could around her, hiding the hell-spawned circuitry (which, thankfully, had yet to spread to Chachamaru's face) before donning her own coat.

* * *

Somehow, Eva was able to get them clear of the Hall of Records, flashing her and Chachamaru's papers and blustering about a hangover, which—given Chachamaru was leaning on Eva for support—appeared convincing.

They made their way down the smooth stone steps of the Hall and turned towards the _Blue Tap_, but stopped as, in the distance, sirens wailed; nearer to hand, those few who had been loitering in the plaza gathered their belongings and fled.

Eva led Chachamaru to a small alleyway adjoining the plaza, and listened in confusion and dismay at the following proclamation, broadcast by some loud-hailer:

"Citizens of Purdue, and all those of this planet Gisacor! We are known as the Pure! Blessed you should feel, for blessed you shall be! We come with the knowledge of the Great Lords of the Elder Days, to make you clean, unpolluted! No man, no beast, no circuit great or small shall be unchecked! Unsullied you shall be! Do not resist, for…"

Shots rang out within a few blocks. Eva tugged Chachamaru into motion.

* * *

They managed to make it back to the _Blue Tap_ after nearly two hours of avoiding Magistrate police, frightened citizens, and a couple knots of the so-called Pure. The few inhabitants Eva had managed to query told her these Purists had apparently landed in force a few hours prior, broken out from the star-port many kilometers to the north using heretofore unseen weapons, and taken their own transporters from their ships to attack the capital, where the Magistrate had deployed riot troops to quell the civilian panic.

Eva was mulling this over in her head as she and Chachamaru stumbled down the steps to the bar. The clatter of Chachamaru's body hitting the floor attracted the attentions of George, Arienny, and Sierra; the latter two behind the bar organizing glasses, while Sierra sat darning socks at a table off to the right.

"Goodness, Athanasia! Whatever happened?!" Arienny dropped her glass on the counter and ran to Chachamaru's aid while Eva panted heavily at the top of the steps. "We heard there was some sort of rioting going on in the city; some barmy lot claiming to have come purifying—what the hell?!"

Arienny had dragged Chachamaru to a sitting position in a chair by the stairs, and the heavy coat had slipped from her ragdoll body. Arienny recoiled in horror from Chachamaru's glittering circuit-skin. "What… is this?"

George straightened from his work and walked around slowly. He stared at Chachamaru, who stared back, the vague bafflement in her eyes giving way to mounting panic as realization of what had happened to her rose to the fore. George then looked up to Evangeline, anger suffusing his face.

"What ARE you?" he growled.

Eva flinched, then stood up like a shot and jumped down the last four stairs to land quivering with rage beside her sister.

"'What', you say?" she growled back. "What we are is lucky to be alive! Chachamaru suffered some kind of attack at the Archives—"

"Did you say… … …Chachamaru?"

Eva came up short. Her eyes flew open as she stared at Sierra, whom she had not even noticed until she spoke. Sierra had nearly risen from her seat, a sock dangling from her hand, before her limp and her shaking legs forced her back to her chair.

"Is not your name Athanasia, and hers Katherine?" Sierra asked, her voice quivering with disbelief.

"_Shit_," Eva muttered. She squared her shoulders and faced Sierra directly. "I thought we told you; events in our past brought us here under assumed names—"

"You never told us you'd 'assumed' them," Arienny pointed out.

"I had _assumed_ you could figure that out for yourself; you're not dense!" Eva retorted hotly. "As if we'd use our real names with people we couldn't trust!"

George, Arienny, and Sierra recoiled as if slapped. Eva bit back a disgusted curse.

"I ought to turn you over to the Magistrate, or to those pure-minded fanatics…" George stroked his chin.

"No!" Sierra scraped back her chair and limped as quickly as her bad legs allowed, placing herself firmly between Eva and George. "They saved my life; I owe them that! You owe them that!"

"I'm sorry… for the grief I've caused you all…" Chachamaru's eyes were clearer, though her pain was intense.

Arienny clapped a hand to her mouth and fled upstairs, where a crash preceded a babble of female voices; Arienny's rose, if not in hysteria, then in dismay, and Eva knew they had but moments to act.

"Please…" Sierra turned to Chachamaru. "You've shown me such kindness… please… go…"

Eva nodded once and scooped up Chachamaru. She hobbled away under her sister's weight, pausing but a moment at the base of the stairs. "…may the moon shine ever brightly on you, Sierra Kinoshita…"

* * *

Eva groaned; she could go no farther. She let Chachamaru slip as gently as she could to a sitting position against an alley wall.

They had successfully evaded both the police and the Purists for four hours. It was hard to believe it was only afternoon; the fleeting winter sun was dimmed behind acrid black smoke that poured from who-knew-what-burning elsewhere in the city.

They had seen knots of Purists herding citizens down the streets using highly-advanced rifles as the proverbial stick. The Purists were disturbing; they all wore white cloaks with brass-button fronts and flared hems, and had white masks in the style of the ancient Drama Masks tied to their heads, though most of the men had pushed the masks aside, revealing their faces. Each mask had, on its forehead, a gear surrounding a death's-head skull; this icon was repeated in various locations, particularly as cuff-links or on buttons, as a patch on the left breast, and in large format on the back of their cloaks. Most had a lighter-than-average skin tone, black hair, and dark eyes.

"Chachamaru… I think… we can go no further…" Eva slumped wearily across from her sister.

"Sister… leave me…" Foam began to fleck Chachamaru's mouth.

"No! I will do no such thing! You are all that is left to me—"

"Evangeline." Chachamaru's head rose, startling Evangeline, who had never been called by her given name by Chachamaru in all their years. "I am broken. I have lost my humanity, as I feared. Something festers within me; something dark, and with limitless malice. I am lost."

"The lost shall be cleansed!" Eva's head snapped up. Six white-cloaks surrounded them, three on each end of the alley, carrying short polearms. "The impure shall be undone, the faithless restored, the desecrated burned—"

"DAMNATION!" Eva shrieked, leaping to her feet. "Do you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice?!"

* * *

_A whistling sound._

_A squelch._

_A tink of metal on stone._

_Eva peered down. Somehow, one of the white-cloaks had closed the distance and ran her through with his weapon. She glanced down, shock blotting out the pain. The weapon was a trident. She blinked, staring down at it in confusion, before her gaze rose to meet its holder's._

_He grinned, a wretched look, and Eva moved to pull the tines from her belly and eviscerate him for his temerity—_

_She was frozen. Her arms would not obey._

"_I know, my pretty," he chuckled. "It's a triple-spear and a neural-scourge; you're pinned AND paralyzed. I like the symbolism: thrice repentant; Body, Mind, and Soul; Man, Beast, Machine. I think I'll rise high within the Pure."_

_Eva choked, bile welling in her throat. _I'll drown…

_The man's associates had closed in. Two of them hauled Chachamaru to her feet, while a third watched her warily; the other two watched Eva._

"_Ben al-Et." The third man had removed Chachamaru's coat, displaying the Hell-born circuitry on her arms, legs, and now her face._

"_What a monstrosity…" The man named Ben al-Et, who held Evangeline, left his weapon embedded in her and the wall behind her. He held out his hand to a subordinate, who handed over a knife from his belt. Ben al-Et sliced away Chachamaru's dress; Eva nearly vomited in rage._

_Ben al-Et's eyes hardened as he took in Chachamaru's naked body: Glistening purple and silver trails of circuitry covered most of her body; barely any skin remained visible. Her eyes were clouding over, turning black and silver._

"_We must act quickly." Ben al-Et raised his knife. Eva's heart nearly stopped—_

"In the name of the Lords, whose wisdom is pure!"

—_before Ben al-Et's knife stopped Chachamaru's._

* * *

_Chachamaru jerked, a single spasm choking out her last breath, before she sighed almost inaudibly and was still._

"_No…"_

* * *

_Time stretched forever as Eva watched Chachamaru tumble down. Tiny droplets of blood and golden machine-parts scattered gently to the stones. Each white-cloak took from within his coat a small igniter and, muttering a prayer, dropped them onto the corpse. Like torches taken to a puddle of oil, they catch, and the fire glints back from the tiny scattered lifeblood and machine-bits._

_Pinned to the stone wall, no words come to her; no curses, no pleadings. Only…_

"_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**_

* * *

_Around Evangeline, a storm raged._

_No ordinary storm, this black monstrosity was conjured from the deepest despair, its darkness a reflection of the greater darkness Eva felt in her heart._

_All was lost, and she surrendered to the Dark…_

* * *

**Chapter Four: End**


	5. Advent of the Dark Evangel

**Author's Note:**

Hmm… one chapter per year on average? Seems legit. -.-;

To anyone or anypony who has made it this far—and waited on me for, you know, _years_ to keep going with this—I salute you.

STUFF HAPPENS!

* * *

**Dark Evangel**

* * *

Chapter Five—Advent of the Dark Evangel

* * *

_If one were to bother taking the time to look around—and really, what better time for taking a leisurely look around than in the middle of an incursion by the Archenemy?—one might notice, amid the violence, a solitary figure tottering through the rubble-strewn streets amid flashes of lightning and bursts of gun- and cannon-fire…_

* * *

The woman tottered along blindly in the darkness, hands stretched ahead of her, her silhouette concealed in the lee of a burnt-out twenty-story tenement. The world was a dim whirl of muted colours and sounds: reds and blues and purples and greys, blurring into darkness; rumbles, low like thunder, like a distant earthquake. Tiny stones skittered across her path; she remained ignorant of them as she forced one foot in front of the other, each step echoing in her mind as a dull "THUMP-thump-thump".

She stumbled, her right hand snatching out in reflex to stop her from falling; it landed on a waist-high pile of rubble beside her. She slumped down onto the pile of fallen masonry, lank blonde hair falling into her eyes. She brushed it aside with her left hand, and glanced up, her eyes throbbing. She could pick out some details, now that her hair was clear of her face: Tall, shattered, grey buildings stretched ahead of her, with piles of grey rubble to either side and the occasional structure toppled in on itself completely. Grey dust eddied in time with the throbbing and rumbles in the distance. Grey, grey, grey…

She shook her head very slowly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her left wrist before raising her hand up to her head. She drew the back of her wrist across her forehead; blood congealed on her arm. She blinked at the blood, noticing for the first time another dull throb in her temples. _Cut? Did I fall?_ She was unsteady enough on her feet; perhaps she had fallen earlier, like she nearly had a moment before, and banged her head.

She blinked her gummy eyes, and the world came slightly more into focus. She could see the sky was dark, blue and purple and black, with sullen reds off to her right, in gaps between the ruined buildings. Much of the thunder was coming from that way. There were also staccato bursts from off to her left and ahead, with the occasional _thumpf-WHOOMF_ for emphasis.

She frowned. _Lightning cannot strike so fast, can it?_ As she focussed on the sounds, she felt a sickness begin to worm itself into her stomach, as though whatever might be creating the sound had the power to disgust her at a distance, even in mere contemplation of its existence.

_I don't much like this… but maybe there is something that I can learn._ She began to shuffle with all the will she could muster towards the busts of sound.

* * *

"Squads advance! Squads advance! Fire-and-movement! Move, move, move! Advance, in the Emperor's name!"

Riot troopers in black plate armour and mirror-visor helmets rose above mounds of rockrete and opened fire with solid-shot autoguns while their shotgun-armed mates scuttled forward at their officer's command.

About fifty of the black-clad riot troopers formed a straggling column, hunkering down in the street or between toppled buildings; several small groups advanced about three metres ahead while their allies poured on suppressing fire.

The platoon-strength force was pinned at the junction of two wide thoroughfares, about twelve metres across either street. Storefronts and tenements had toppled, providing leapfrogging two-and-a-half-metre wide embankments about a metre-and-a-half high, with random piles of rubble at intervals down the street.

The riot officer commanding hunkered down and turned to the man on his left. "Bad business, Inquisitor. The heretics have us pinned neatly; I count at least three heavy weapons. We've nothing to get us up close but guts."

The addressee was not another riot officer. He wore a long beige storm-coat—under which he wore a bulky carapace breastplate—and patent leather boots, and carried an overlarge pistol and a poignard. He looked thoughtful. "Grenades would work, if we could get close enough, Proctor."

"Suicidal, sir," the proctor replied.

A third man, clad in a long black-and-red storm coat and peaked cap, sneered from the inquisitor's left. "If guts and grenades are all we have, then we shall use them in the Emperor's name."

"With respect, Commissar, I know my place, and if that's what I'm ordered to do, I'll do it, but—"

"Emperor have mercy!" The cry snapped the proctor and his companions up above their cover, and they gasped when they saw their opposition.

There were ten of them, advancing in a loose line abreast. Taller than the tallest man, clad in ornate blue-and-gold armour with huge horns curving up from their helms, they advanced slowly but implacably, their boots crushing the pavement in a march of death for the riot-troopers. Flaming shot flew from their huge guns, smashing apart both rock and flesh. Two riot troopers were caught out in the open and were torn to pieces with explosive effect.

Lightning flickered around the horns of the soldier in the middle and blasted out from his outstretched left hand, the right gripping a staff in the same colours as his armour. The sorcerous fire flowed over and around cover, slowly incinerating anything living it touched.

"Bollocks to this!" the proctor breathed. "I think using grenades just became academic at this point…"

The commissar swung 'round and shoved his way past the inquisitor, and pointed a bolt pistol at the officer's head. "That sounds like desertion in the making, Proctor."

"The hell with you, Commissar!" the proctor shot back. "I am a proud son of the Emperor, and I'll fight to the last, but if you didn't notice, the Traitor Marines are gaining ground and my men are dying. We have nothing to fight with, and I mean it this time."

"Maybe some krak grenades…" the inquisitor began.

The proctor's mouth curled into a mirthless smile. "Again, sir, with respect, I have no wish to commit suicide."

"Weakling," the commissar retorted.

"I am inclined to shoot you, Commissar," the proctor replied levelly, though his mouth twitched with what had to be suppressed anger, "capital offence or no. I thank the Emperor that I am _not_ a member of the lauded Imperial Guard, or I assume I would already be dead." He turned back to the Inquisitor. "What of your troops, sir?"

The inquisitor shook his head. "They're ten blocks back, last I heard. They aren't really mine, anyway."

The proctor carefully raised his head out of cover. He counted at least twenty of his men dead; no matter if they had been in cover or had attempted to fall back, the leading squads had been wiped out.

He dropped back down. "We have to coordinate something, or we'll be wiped out in mere minutes!"

"If we can flank them—" The inquisitor was cut off by an unnerving cry, a screeching howl that shook their reserve. The proctor, inquisitor, and commissar's heads all shot up over the rim of their cover, heedless of the danger, and all of them gasped aloud.

A tide of heretics had appeared out of nowhere, sweeping up the street; the proctor's horrified mental estimate ran as high as two hundred. His troopers couldn't stand up to that; to their credit, they fired as they jogged back, and third squad—broken into two five-man fireteams—stood fast, shotguns levelled and ready to take as many heretics to the afterlife as possible in a hail of buckshot.

"All squads, fall back! Fall back! Prepare to retreat!" The Proctor stood upright, yelling furiously into his comm-bead as well as in the direction of his troops, making sweeping hand-signs to get their attention.

The commissar stood as well, levelling his bolt pistol at the riot troops. "I will not stand for such cowardice!"

The proctor turned and decked the commissar with the butt of his shotgun; the commissar winced as the buttplate smacked his cheek. His aim spoiled, he let his arm flop down and slid into cover again. He touched a gloved hand to his mouth, rewarded with a small trickle of blood. He looked up at the inquisitor with what might have been a touch of sadness, who shrugged, a similar look in his eyes.

In the brief moment the proctor had turned away, another dozen riot troopers had fallen, and the few remaining had nearly made it back to his position to regroup. The charging tide of heretics came screaming on, gaining ground every moment.

"Gentlemen," the proctor, "I am Arled Whardson, and I commend your souls to the Emperor on Earth. It has been an honour." He reached down a hand to the commissar, who after a brief glare took it and hauled himself up. Whardson straightened his posture before dusting off the commissar's epaulettes and squaring a campaign medal that had gone awry.

"I am Commissar Octus Brutus Nixios, and I commend my soul, and the souls of these brave men, to the Emperor, praise His name." The commissar nodded a small affirmation to the proctor.

"Blessed Emperor, Chief of all the Holy Saints," spoke the Inquisitor, as he and his comrades levelled their weapons at the foe, "I, your servant Nicodemus Strang of the Holy Inquisition, commend all these true warriors to your care, that the Black Bell should ring with sorrow and with gladness, and remind all loyal citizens the duty and burden we all bear. The Emperor Protects…"

* * *

Three fireteams hunkered in position. While they might be mistaken for riot troops at a distance, their armour was fully enclosed and made of heavier plates, and their laser rifles were cable-fed from large backpack capacitors.

Nearby, a motley assortment of about three dozen men and women waited, crouched farther back from the storm troopers. They checked their weapons and armour, whispering prayers. Lights and sparks winked around a few of the people, and a cool breeze like questing fingers drew back their cloaks—and _only_ the cloaks of those light-shrouded—with fitful tugs.

"We ought to just charge them and get it over with," one man's voice rumbled, a mechanical timber lending him a menacing air.

"No," barked another mechanical voice. This voice belonged to the man standing at the head of the group. Encased in a gigantic set of armour, he was larger even than the Traitor Marines the riot troops faced. "We wait until our pointmen signal. At the apex of the traitors' charge, we'll tear into them, with the storm troopers cutting in from this side. They're ready with rifle grenades, and the cultists will be lightly-armoured, so we'll have the advantage, even though they have numbers on their side. As soon as we get confirmation that the Traitor Marines are indeed leading the heretics, the Mortiurge squad will open fire."

There was general grumbling from the group, some in assent and some in impatience.

The storm troopers suddenly un-crouched slightly and began hurrying forward. The assembly behind them let out a collective sigh and stood as well, bringing weapons to the ready.

"We move, and may the Emperor guide our…" The armoured giant trailed off, turning his head and torso as far as his armour allowed to the rear. In ones and twos, the rest of the group muttered and turned as well. Some gasped and made warding gestures.

Tottering along in the gloom behind them was a human, a woman; but what a strange woman. Blonde hair rippled in a halo of light; dirt and blood encrusted her downturned face and tattered gown; she moved with a singleness of purpose that was unnerving.

The woman's head lifted. Eyes shone with white light, piercing the gloom. In an instant, her whole body flashed in light, and a streak, like a thousand after-images, blew past the astonished men and women of the assault force, straight for the desperate sounds of the riot troopers' battle.

"I know not what this sign means," cried the armoured giant, "but whatever sorcery it is, we shall face it! Holy brethren, Inquisitors, advance in the Emperor's name!"

Crying holy prayers, the Inquisitorial assault force charged.

* * *

Aside from Proctor Whardson, Commissar Nixios (who was nursing a bullet-wound to his right elbow), and Inqiusitor Strang, there were five active riot troopers remaining; five more were alive, having managed to stumble into cover under their own power or with the help of another, but couldn't lift a weapon.

Incredibly, the remaining Imperial riot forces were holding. The three casualties with some dexterity left reloaded weapons as quickly as they were able, passing guns and grenades to their friends and easing their squad-mates into cover if they were struck or else had crawled from the front line.

Sadly, though every shot and piece of shrapnel found its mark, the horde of heretics was still overwhelming; even without the presence of the Traitor Marines farther back down the line, in mere moments the sheer weight of numbers would engulf the riot troops, and they would die.

Time slowed down for Proctor Whardson. He saw bullets fly from autogun muzzles and cartridges eject from ports moments after their powder-flashes; shrapnel spin lazily into unprotected flesh; the screams and orders of friend and foe faded away; even the stink of unwashed heretic flesh, coming on like a bow-wave, faded into nothing.

Whardson knew it was time to die. He saw among the heretic ranks a single traitor, who had a bead on the proctor. Whardson knew he couldn't dodge the shot, so he spoke a final prayer in his mind—

* * *

_A violent flash of purple light, like a blade of light, shot down the ranks of the traitors before scything up, decimating their ranks. A shockwave followed, sending fully a quarter of the traitors flying from the back of the column over the heads of their fellows._

_The horde's charge faltered as the force of the explosion threw them off-balance; men stumbled, discharging their weapons reflexively as fingers tightened on triggers._

_Whardson's men too fell down behind cover. The proctor was first to recover his balance; he leapt to his feet, ready to exhort his men to fight, but the call died in his throat at what he saw:_

_A tall blonde woman, wearing a tattered dress covered in dust and blood; her hair floated around her head and shoulders, and white light seeped from her eyes as a purple glow ran across her exposed skin._

_The woman turned to the traitor horde, and with a dramatic gesture raised her palm, fingers outstretched; lightning flashed, hundreds of bolts so dense they formed a sheet. Weird cries and distorted echoes shivered through the air and through Imperial and Traitor alike. The woman swept her arm as though backhanding every traitor with the utmost contempt, and another burst of lightning perversely plunged the street into complete darkness. All who witnessed it cried aloud in terror._

_When the darkness lifted, half the traitors had vanished, though the Traitor Marines remained. They had finally advanced silently through the ranks of heretics, weapons ready to spit death at their leader's word._

_The sorcerer, the staff-wielder, raised a finger to point at the woman and spoke in a strange tongue. She shivered, head down, and spat._

"_Wretched ones, know your fate." Lifting her head again, the glare in her eyes intensified, and two brilliant shafts of light shot out, scattering like through a prism when they struck the sorcerer. He blocked with his staff, but his compatriots turned to dust at the light's touch._

_The woman screamed like the fires of damnation burned her; arcs of energy shot out, smashing wantonly into anything nearby. Several of the surviving riot troopers were incinerated, and anyone still somehow standing was knocked down._

_The woman dropped to the ground, naked and scorched. The sorcerer, incredibly, survived the cataclysmic blast, and pointed his staff at the woman's body._

_An armoured fist punched through his torso; he dropped his staff and tried to turn, but his armour fell apart and dropped with a clangour as his body disappeared. The armoured behemouth waved on his companions; with the storm troopers cutting in from the side of the street, the Inquisitorial assault squad hurtled into the remains of the heretics._

_Strangely, though battle raged all around her, the woman was not trampled; in fact, the armoured giant strode on through the futile resistance the heretics offered, and knelt over her until the raging battle ended…_

* * *

She awoke in a dimly-lit room. It took her a long moment to realize it _was_, in fact, a room: between the lack of light and a bizarre rippling that made the air swim before her eyes, she doubted that she was anywhere at all. Equally bemusing was that she _had_ to realize that she was somewhere, anywhere, leading her to wonder if she ought to think she was dead.

Hoping to either prove or dislodge the idea, she peered around slowly, squinting painfully in an effort to make out even the most basic details. Pale glowing lamps cast a feeble light in the chamber, which was approximately round in shape and austere, its bare stone devoid of ornamentation. Everything seemed leached of colour; even _she_ felt leached of colour. She blinked, hoping the rippling air would cease its nauseating winking.

"Ah, the subject has awoken." The voice: male, cultured.

The woman peered around again, searching for the source of the voice; she believed vaguely that it was behind her, but she could barely tell, nor could she be sure if she was alone, or how many people surrounded her.

"Aye, she has." The reply: female, strong, somewhere to the left.

"Then, I declare this Apotropaic Congress in session." Male, grave, speaking out of the void. "Praised be the Emperor."

"Aye, so let's be about it!" A male, snarling voice.

A blast of sudden light erupted, causing the woman to throw her arms up before her eyes in defence. Muttered voices circled her as she squirmed.

"Aw, she didn't burst into flame! Shame for you, eh, Master Tobias?" Young, male, mocking.

"Bah!" The same snarl. "It was worth a try."

"You ought to mind your place, Tobias." The cultured voice; admonitory. "This Congress is not yours to lead." Then: "Woman, do you behold us?"

She squinted through her arms. "A veil is before my eyes."

"Aye, of course." The grave male voice. "We wouldn't dare let you free; you stand behind a void shield. On the other hand, let us behold your form, and you ours…"

A mechanical hum; the lights dimmed to a respectable level, and a shimmer passed around the woman before fading. Finally able to see, she looked around warily.

Two-score figures, she estimated at a glance. They appeared uniformly cloaked, though some wore armour with glinting accoutrements, and all wore hoods; unnatural gleams shone within a few cowls. Most appeared to be men, though she could detect (instinctively) a few women.

The group stood in two rings facing her, one behind the other. The bearing of those closer to her suggested they were the seniors or elders, meaning about half the group were leaders and half attendants, though some leaders had two attendants, only one, or none at all.

"Where am I?"

"You are our prisoner, and the subject of our Apotropaic Congress," replied the grave voice, directly ahead of her.

The men and women of the front circle reached within their robes—a few throwing back their cloaks theatrically—and each withdrew a badge. Some hung on chains, other sat in boxes, and a few were simply held freehand, their bodies precious metals or polished stone, and most were adorned with a ruby-red skull whose eyes were jewels. But all were identical in one regard: each was shaped in the form of a thrice-barred, stylized "I".

"We are the Emperor's Inquisition."

The woman blinked. "Am I to be frightened?"

"Silence, witch!" barked a man to her right. She turned to face him, matching the snarling voice to the snarling man. Now that she could see, she noted his appearance fully for the first time:

Snarl had coal-black eyes, contrasting with the red-gold hair on his bared head; his helmet hung at his left hip. He was tall, surely 190cm, and hulking, though that was due to his armour, which he had exposed by sweeping his cloak behind him over his shoulders.

The armour matched his hair for colour; intricate crimson script ran the length of his breastplate—the woman fancied she could read such things as "burn the heretic", "castigate the wicked", and "slay the witch"—and a golden eagle wing jutted from each kneepad. Both pauldrons were richly embellished: a massive, matte white, two-headed eagle on the left, and an embossed white sword, point-up and wreathed in flame, on the right. Connectors ran from the back of the armour to an armoured backpack; when he moved, his armour moved easily with him, and the woman heard small motors and actuators drone in the joints. Overall, he appeared more machine than man, though she figured he must be human, as someone had named him but moments ago.

Snarl noticed her taking in his appearance and, though he appeared insulted that she should be so direct in her appraisal, he nodded as though satisfied. "Aye, the might of the Inquisition, the strong left hand of the God-Emperor. You would do well to respect our power, witch."

"Your pardon," the woman replied smoothly.

Another man stepped forward, to her left. His cloak was loose about him, exposing his frontal armour. Unlike the snarling Tobias's, this man's armour appeared to be solid and moulded plates for chest and torso, as well as vambraces and greaves, and it appeared neither enveloping nor powered, and nowhere near as robotic.

His head remained cowled; when he spoke, she recognized the cultured voice that had rebuked. "Tobias, though… over-eager, is correct: You stand condemned, and only your cooperation will merit and secure you a swift and painless death."

The woman blinked in surprise. "Suppose I want to live? What then?"

A wave of noise—muttered imprecations and chuckles—swept quickly through the crowd, only to be quelled by the upraised hand of the grave Convenor.

"Hold your peace." He pulled back his hood, revealing shocking white hair and an ancient face. His eyes, a deep grey, swept pointedly around the room "In three hundred twenty seven years, I have never encountered the like of this woman, and—SILENCE, TOBIAS!" he snapped at the snarling man, who had all but inaudibly muttered something at the word "woman". "I care not of you views on the witch; hold your tongue and know your place!"

"And may I suggest," the cultured voice added, "you switch off your vox if you are going to mutter insults, Tobias?"

The convenor sniffed and regained his composure. "Woman, I am Lord Inquisitor Errol Maximus Feldspar of the Ordo Hereticus, also known as the Witch Hunters. With me today are several of my august brethren and their retainers, variously Witch Hunters, Daemonhunters of the Ordo Malleus, and even Inquisitor Ferracci of the Ordo Xenos. We number thirty, all of the Officio Inquisitorus Kurion, of which I have the honour to stand as Master of the Hereticus. I have the rank in this Congress, and I am the judge of your ultimate fate.

"The circumstances of your capture are, in a word, extraordinary. They are also intriguing. As such, my peers—" he leaned on the word "peers," staring at Tobias, who frowned, "—and I have convened our Apotropaic Congress to discover all we can of you."

The woman frowned. "And my fate?"

Feldspar shook his head slowly. "Were Tobias—and indeed others—to have their way, you would already have been executed out of hand. However, we have yet to decide your fate, though death is likely.

"Now, let us start the questioning. Who are you?"

"I know not; I do not know myself." A collective "hmm" flitted around the room. "I am a woman, and I am as you see me. My memory is poor, but I know my attributes: My hair is blonde, my eyes blue, my bearing tall, and my womanhood… in its prime." Some quiet snorts—particularly from the younger men—were hastily covered as coughs; the woman was as naked as the day she was born, though certainly no one would mistake her figure for that of a child's.

"How come you to be in Rex Codalaron?"

"I know not. I have a vague memory of light and dark, of thunder and silence, of spinning and falling… I walked through your streets in a daze, and before I knew otherwise, I was among the hell-knights."

"Ah, yes," drawled a man on her far left, "you were among the Traitor Marines when we found you, yes?"

"Traitor Marines?"

"Your corrupted brethren, no doubt," retorted Tobias.

"Tobias!" Feldspar snapped, rounding on the troublemaker. "My next rebuke will be delivered only after I toss you from this room, and that will follow immediately after your next ill-conceived comment! Be silent!"

Tobias drew his hood and cast his eyes downward, crossing his arms over his breast. Feldspar stared a moment longer before returning his attention to the woman. "So, you claim to have no knowledge of who you are or how you came here… Suppose we believe you."

"Why should you not?" the woman replied. "I can sense even from here that you have great power. I'm sure you could peer into my mind and see the truth."

Another intense mutter swept around the room.

"How can you be sure of that…?" Feldspar said slowly. "From behind a void shield, no less…"

Tobias strode forward menacingly. "Out with it, witch: what is the source of your sorcery?"

"Sorcery? I don't have any…"

Tobias made an exasperated, disgusted sound deep in his throat. "She will give nothing away. I say slay her and be done with it."

A muted round of general assent greeted Tobias's pronouncement.

"There might be a way…" The cultured man glanced at Feldspar. "Release her."

A shock ran through the crowd. "McCann!" Feldspar exclaimed in disbelief. "You can't be serious—!"

"Think on it, my lord: It required a dozen of us to contain her, and even then I firmly believe she came willingly, else she could have destroyed us all. Besides, you know of my abilities."

"If I may add…" This voice was new; he had not spoken yet. He was somewhere off to her left; she could just barely see, through a gap in the crowd, a beige coat, high boots, and an overlarge pistol at his hip.

"Inquisitor Strang?" Feldspar called.

The crowd parted slightly to allow Strang to see better. "I beheld the woman in the final phases of the assault, as did Proctor Whardson and Commissar Nixios, whom you invited here to debrief. I believe all of us will attest that this woman attacked only the traitors and heretics, and did no harm to any Imperial servant."

Feldspar waved to Strang; he, as well as Whardson and Nixios—who had been hidden at the very back of the crowd—advanced to the front of the circle.

"I would take exception to your particular wording, lord," Whardson said quietly. "I have several dead and injured men who would say otherwise when you claim this woman did 'no' harm to any Imperial servant. On the other hand… I suppose she did save us, even though the power of the Infernal Realm flows through her."

"I would have her shot out of an overabundance of caution," said Commissar Nixios, "but then I have no desire to meddle in this. Do as you will, worthy lords."

Feldspar nodded, and the three men returned to their places.

Feldspar stared at McCann for several seconds. Then, slowly, he reached into his robes and withdrew a control wand. He keyed in a sequence and, slowly, the energy shield around the woman dissipated.

She breathed in deeply. "I thank you," she began, lifting her eyes steadily to look around again, "I felt suffocated in—"

Her eyes grew huge as she made a full about-face, fixed on the mighty sign above and behind her: A golden, double-headed eagle.

* * *

For what felt like an eternity she stared at the great sign. Then, suddenly, she swayed as tears filled her eyes, and she dropped to her knee in genuflection, head bowed in reverence.

"I am Evangeline Athanasia Katherine McDowell," she whispered. "O Emperor!" she cried, raising her head, "You are my father and my master! Guide me, your daughter, and be my light! Praise the Emperor!"

"Praise the Emperor!" shouted the Inquisitors as one. Turning to face the sign, they too genuflected before it, pressing their hands over their hearts in the likeness of the double-eagle.

"What trickery is this?" Tobias wondered aloud as he rose. The others did likewise, still staring in awe at the woman called Evangeline. Whispers ran through the rear circle like wildfire despite the elders' attempts to quell them, and even the Inquisitors themselves were hard-pressed not to chatter in awe.

"E-van-ge-line…" McCann murmured thoughtfully. "'The messenger of good news' in the ancient tongue…"

Tobias snorted.

Shrouded though McCann was by his cowl, Evangeline fancied she could sense a smile dance on his lips.

"Witchfinder Tobias," McCann spoke solemnly, "I propose this: Administer one of the Holy Ordeals, that we might know this woman's spirit."

A collective "Hmm? What?" passed among the assembled Inquisitors, and Tobias's eyes narrowed in frank suspicion. "You are no proponent of the Holy Ordeals, McCann; why do you suggest one now?"

"Because it will convince us all, I think, one way or another. Consider this, Tobias: I will yield the right to you to conduct a Trial of your choosing here and now. If Evangeline fails, you are vindicated, and I would move to execute her forthwith." Tobias nodded his assent. "If, however, she passes the Ordeal, I shall take it as a sign of the Emperor's blessing and shall conduct a different trial to determine her true nature. Are you agreed?"

Tobias looked around slowly at his brethren, nodding among themselves, before all heads turned nearly as one to face Feldspar.

Feldspar nodded, raising his badge of office. "By the consensus of the assembled brethren, the Congress yields the right to settle matters between Inquisitors McCann and Tobias in the case of the accused witch Evangeline. Blessed be the Emperor."

Tobias snapped his fingers and stepped forward, and two younger men advanced to his sides from the back of the room, each bearing a cloth bag. Tobias withdrew a gold chalice—marked with the "I"—from the bag on his left, and a black, skull-marked bottle—nearly as large as his head—from the bag to his right. He held them up for all to see. "I have here a vial and chalice blessed by the duly appointed ministers of the Emperor's Holy Church. Only the pure of heart may imbibe this holy water without choking on the bitter gall of their sin."

He handed the items back to the acolytes, who huddled before their master's upraised arms, palms down as though in benediction, and carefully transferred the blessed water to the chalice. When it was full, they stepped toward Evangeline.

"Take this cup, that we may know your heart," spoke the bearer of the chalice.

"Let the Emperor's Justice balance in all accounts," spoke his companion.

Evangeline took the chalice. She glanced at Tobias. "Am I permitted to pour a libation before I drink, in the name of the ancients?"

Someone laughed explosively, and Tobias glowered; Evangeline dared to believe it was the young man who had mocked him at the start when she didn't burst into flame like a vampire, especially as the voice was quickly silenced by what sounded like a smack to the back of the head. "Get on with it," Tobias growled.

Evangeline shrugged. Turning to face the great eagle, she raised the cup in salute. Carefully—her right hand supporting the bowl, her left balancing the base—she brought the chalice to her lips. She tilted her head back slowly and drained the water in one long, smooth draught.

As she drank, the dust motes playing about the double-eagle's head seemed to sparkle more brightly than before, and a tiny halo played about Evangeline's head. Tobias leaned forward intently, as though waiting for her to burst into flame or dissolve into a puddle.

Finally, after what seemed far too long for a cup of such size, Evangeline ceased to drink with a sigh and lowered the chalice. She offered it gently to the acolytes, who took it with wary frowns. They peered in and gasped, hurrying to show their master. He took it wordlessly before looking in, cursing in disbelief. "What devilry—?!"

Feldspar and McCann moved to inspect the chalice in their turn. "It is still _full_?!" Feldspar exclaimed. "In the Emperor's Name—!"

"Perhaps just so," McCann replied softly.

"Damnation!" Tobias flung the contents of the chalice at Evangeline; they drenched her, and Tobias stood in full fury, staring at the soaked blonde in front of him, the sacred relic tilted in his hand, a constant drip of water pooling at his feet.

"I think… _not_ damnation, Tobias." McCann did smile this time, and made no effort to hide it. The younger men—including the teasing scoundrel—laughed quietly but heartily. "I'm sure our honoured brethren of the Ministorum will be delighted to catalogue an apparent miracle…"

Tobias straightened to his full height, restraining himself with a visible effort of will, and righted his hand and the relic he held. He glanced inside, and relaxed visibly. "There is no more of the holy water to be spilt today…"

McCann's only response was to raise an eyebrow, before turning to the Convenor. "Lord Feldspar…?"

Feldspar nodded, appearing weary. "It would seem you are correct, at least about the first part. She's yours, McCann."

"Thank you, my lord. If I may be so presumptuous, perhaps we might suspend the formal Congress for now."

"And, because…?"

McCann glanced back at Evangeline, who was starting to shiver slightly. "Out of courtesy to my brethren, or so I hope they will take it. I would look into her case, as a senior member of the Malleus, and I would hope to spare my brothers and sisters for other duties."

"Do you think this falls under the purview of the Malleus, Master McCann?" Feldspar asked. Evangeline thought his tone was not suspicious, merely curious, or said for the sake of appearance.

McCann shrugged slightly. "I think I would be as good an investigator as any, or perhaps even better. However…" McCann searched over the heads of the crowd. "Since Inquisitor Strang was present at the battle, and saw Evangeline first, perhaps he would agree to stay as the representative of the Hereticus? And perhaps the honoured Proctor and Commissar as well? I could debrief them…"

Feldspar stroked his chin once, nodding. "As Convenor of this Congress, and Lord Inquisitor, I do hereby transfer authority to Inquisitor McCann to act in the investigation and questioning of the subject, henceforth known as 'Evangeline'. I second Inquisitor Strang with my blessing as Hereticus representative, and ask that Proctor Whardson and Commissar Nixios present themselves to Inquisitor McCann to assist and to be debriefed. The Emperor Protects."

The gathering made the sign of the eagle and repeated the refrain, before turning to exit. Evangeline noticed that the Inquisitors proper—those at the front of the circle—made to exit first, followed by their assistants. They appeared not to be standing exactly in order in the circle; Evangeline guessed it was something to do with seniority, or perhaps even notoriety, if Tobias the Snarling was anything to go by. Indeed, he was the second to exit behind Fledspar, and he glared at her one last time as he swept by. Evangeline noticed, with great amusement, that the one who had teased Tobias throughout winked at her as he left, following the fourth man to exit out the door.

* * *

Evaneline remained in the chamber, bidden to remain by Inquisitor McCann. He gave her his cloak before he left, revealing armour plates much like those Inquisitor Strang wore. He promised to return with some food and clothes, as well as some equipment with which he would test her.

Inquisitor Strang remained, along with the Proctor and the Commissar, whom McCann had instructed (in a huddle at one side of the room, opposite Evangeline) to shoot the prisoner at the first sign of treachery. The Commissar seemed eager but uneasy, the Proctor grimly prepared, and Strang rather unconcerned.

After McCann left, Commissar Nixios began to pace slowly across the room, checking the aim on his pistol every time he made a round trip. Proctor Whardson stood at ease before the door, his rifle across his chest. Strang feinted with his poniard, sometimes with his pistol in hand, sometimes switching them up.

Evangeline had stood for a while, wrapped in her borrowed cloak, watching the three men and how they dealt with the stress, before making her way slowly over to stare up at the eagle. The men stopped moving when she walked away, the Commissar bringing his weapon up slightly, the Proctor's hand tightening ever so slightly, and the Inquisitor's weapons held relaxed at his sides. When she did nothing more than gaze at the eagle, they resumed their previous activities.

McCann returned after an hour—up-armoured in an enormous and baroque suit of powered armour, an order of magnitude more impressive than Tobias's—accompanied by some robed human servants as well as a pair of what Evangeline assumed were some kind of cyborgs, grotesque metal-and-flesh constructs, each with an overlarge cannon in place of one arm. The cyborgs marched to the corners of the room farthest from the door and watched Evangeline intently.

Some of the servants brought food in the form of dark, pressed, jellied blocks, which was gratefully (if somewhat disdainfully) accepted by everyone, though McCann made sure he himself served Evangeline. A few servants made the eagle-sign, glancing warily at Evangeline before departing. Other servants took up positions around the room and began to chant; Evangeline noticed they held up sticks of incense, presumably drawn from pockets in their robes.

Evangeline bit into the food; it tasted… like chicken that had been cooked but left overnight in a refrigerator. "Don't tell me all you people in the future eat this?" she said to McCann.

McCann, chewing—his helmet was hug at his hip—glanced at her thoughtfully. "Did you say, 'you in the future'?"

"I did."

McCann took another bite, still thoughtful. "Am I to infer from that remark that you are _not_, in fact, from this time?"

"I would say not, sir."

McCann continued to stare at Evangeline as he chewed his food. "The Warp does strange things…" he muttered. Noting Evangeline's curious stare at his words, he shrugged; Evangeline heard a humming around his shoulders, which she assumed were motors controlling his armour's functions. "We shall know soon enough."

McCann said nothing more until he had consumed his jelly, and everyone else took their cue from him. Once they had all eaten, McCann instructed Whardson, Nixios, and Strang to gather in front of the door and fire upon anyone who appeared "possessed by the Ruinous Powers". Evangeline shivered at the words, and the four men glanced at her, a variety of emotions on display in their faces.

"Do you know something of the dark powers?" Inquisitor Strang asked casually.

Evangeline wrapped her arms around her chest. "I feel I do."

"We shall determine as much now," McCann stated. He waved a gauntleted hand, and the robed servants—who had been chanting in whispers—raised their voices slowly, first to murmurs, then to a normal speaking volume.

McCann gestured to Evangeline, who moved to stand below the eagle-carving at the room's rear. McCann stood before her, facing both her and the eagle, his gauntlets and helmet stored at his hips. "Evangeline, you and I stand in judgement, before the Inquisition and the Emperor. I am known as a psyker; I have the power to stare into your mind and soul, and I shall see truth—as shall our Father, Him-on-Earth, the Emperor. If you should prove false or tainted, I or my worthy brothers shall destroy you as fully as the Emperor's Grace can allow, and cast your soul before the Golden Throne to be judged. If you have any confession or final words to speak, do so now, and they shall be recorded and recalled as your testimony."

Evangeline began to shiver, not uncontrollably, but she trembled as though a chill had suddenly entered the room. "If it is the will of the Father, I submit to Him-on-Earth." She dropped to her knees, her arms still wrapped around her bosom.

McCann stepped forward, and the chanting rose louder, such that the air began to hum with it.

He came face-to-face with Evangeline.

"Open to me…"

McCann grasped Evangeline's face with both hands and closed his eyes.

Arcs of light shot between his eyes and hers, and both gasped. Strang and his fellows tensed their hands on their weapons.

* * *

_McCann's life-force—his soul—flooded into Evangeline._

_In that instant, he became one with her._

_He saw fragments of a past life: _

_A small girl who wandered the world in darkness and did terrible things._

_A lonely girl with only a doll for company._

_A murdered toymaker; flames in the night._

_He saw a sunrise and a hope for a better tomorrow._

_A distant land; a grown woman, facing down a man, her lover._

_The girl-woman trapped in her body, forced to suffer through a compulsive schooling with… _juvies_._

_A young man, so full of wisdom, who tried to turn her life around._

_Betrayal…_

_And, above all, a shining light, a beacon, a Ray of Hope_—

* * *

McCann staggered back, gasping, as the connection broke, sparking.

Evangeline knelt, surrounded by golden radiance.

"The touch of the Emperor is upon you," McCann whispered. "Evangeline… I shall take you as my own."

* * *

**Chapter Five: End**

* * *

**Post-script:** Dan Abnett (through Inquisitor Eisenhorn) gives a succinct description of Apotropaic Studies in the novel _Malleus_. In brief, an apotropaic study is conducted on some important enemy to discover more about them, about the motivations, beliefs, and abilities of their race or faction. On a small scale, there may only be a handful of inquisitors attending; studies with at least eleven participants are called Councils, and larger than that, they are termed a Congress.


End file.
